


kissBOOMbang

by BigSciencyBrain



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: All Human AU, Anal Sex, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Copious amounts of sexy times, Fluffy domestic hitman thriller, Lots of adult language, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Tissue Warning, this fic is not a sex ed lesson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 128,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4606251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigSciencyBrain/pseuds/BigSciencyBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is moving into his first house and the last person he expected to show up to haul boxes was Loki. That Loki returns his interest is even more unexpected. In no time, Steve is falling head over heels, but Loki has a dark secret that might tear them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: The only one who shows up to help you move.

“Easy, Agent Barnes.”

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes turned his head away from the rifle, grinning broadly. “I’m golden, Coulson.”

“This is your first mission. It’s normal to be nervous.”

“I’m gonna rock this, you’ll see.” He put his eye back to the scope. “One asshole terrorist going down. Soon as he steps out that door, he’s mine.”

“Patience is a virtue,” Coulson said blandly.

Coulson was an impossibly chill guy, in a Suburban accountant kind of way, even in the field. His trademark suit made him stand out like a sore thumb against the black tactical gear Bucky was wearing. He’d been hoping for full out sniper camouflage, but black worked better in a concrete and asphalt jungle. Maybe his next mission would be on a tropical island and he could trade in the flak jacket for a Hawaiian shirt.

The downside of a job with a clandestine Government agency like SHIELD was that he couldn’t go home and tell his boyfriend all the times he saved people and made the world a safer place. Thoughts of home were warm and fuzzy, making a spark of heat pool low in his belly. He wondered briefly if Coulson had someone at home. There was an ongoing betting pool at SHIELD as to exactly what they might find in Coulson’s dwelling. A boyfriend, a girlfriend, a dog, maybe a plastic plant of some kind, given the hours Coulson seemed to work. Of course, they’d have to actually discover where Coulson lived - most junior agents assumed he had a cot in his office - to dole out any winnings.

He set aside those thoughts, and the thoughts about seeing Steve again, to focus on the partial doorway he could see through the rifle sight. All he needed was a moment's clear shot, just time enough to pull the trigger. It was sobering, bad guy or not, to see the fragility of life up close and personal. He'd have to go through SHIELD mandated counseling when he returned; it was standard protocol after every kill mission. And he was pretty sure they'd spend a lot of time talking about how he felt after taking a life, but if he didn't think he could handle it, he wouldn't have joined SHIELD in the first place.

Knowing the questions were coming made him hesitate. The door swung inward, like a shadow falling away, and the target came into view. A voice in his head told him to take the shot, but he didn't. It wasn't long before he shook free of his reluctance, the space of a heartbeat; not even long enough for Coulson to prompt him. But it was long enough. The sharp bark of a rifle sounded; blood sprayed back against the wall and the door. He jerked away from the sight, confused.

"That wasn't me," he hissed.

Coulson was already moving, gathering up their gear and speaking into a communicator. "We've got a second shooter. Repeat, second shooter. Need extraction, over." His expression was grim when he tucked the handset away. "It's not SHIELD, we have to assume whoever it is won't be friendly. Let's go."

He broke down the gun and stowed it away in his pack. As he hoisted it up onto his shoulders, he saw the glint of a rifle sight on the roof of a nearby building. That building had been his second choice. He dropped the pack and dove for cover, dragging Coulson behind a low wall with him. Another shot rang out, bits of stone and tar spraying up where the bullet hit the surface of the roof. 

"Definitely not friendly," he whispered. Coulson had the handset out in a moment, alerting the extraction team they were under fire. "There's enough cover to get to the fire escape."

Coulson shook his head. "The shooter had no reason to target us. We can't identify them. It doesn't make sense."

"Maybe they just don't like us."

"Must've known we were here." Coulson's brow furrowed as he thought. "Why take out our target and then try to take us out?" He shifted enough to wrestle a small mirror from his gear bag, sliding it up enough to see over the low wall. "Unless they only want us to stay put while they get away. Could be an independent, gun for hire."

"What's the plan?"

"If they're setting us up, we can't stay here. They'll have tipped off the authorities or planted evidence to lead them to us."

"Response time is nine minutes." He checked his watch and made a guess. "Three minutes left, maybe four."

Coulson grabbed his bag. "Head in the direction of the shooter but do not engage; stay out of sight. If we're separated, get to a safe house however you can. Whatever it takes, just get there. Barnes, are you listening to me?"

"Yeah, yeah. Safe house. Got it."

"On my mark."

Bucky was moving before Coulson hit zero, keeping low to minimize his visibility as he made his way to the fire escape. Two more rounds came their way, pulverizing the brick where they hit and sending up sharp sprays of dust and clay. The fire escape clanged, metal against metal, and shuddered beneath his boots when he dropped down, but he didn't have time to think about that. He had to focus; get to the next level, get down the stairs, get to the ground.

He reached the alley floor when Coulson was halfway down the fire escape and he kept going. If he could get to the shooter's location, he might be able to catch him. Since he'd scouted that building earlier, he knew the best exit routes already and headed straight for a side door off of the loading dock. It was hidden on three sides with a straight shot down another alleyway that was perfect for reaching a vehicle and making a getaway. At least, that would've been his plan.

Rounding a corner, he vaulted up onto an industrial garbage bin and scrambled over the flimsy barrier between the dock and the side entrance. The door was closed; he could see a plain, dark sedan parked at the end of the alley.

"Gotcha," he whispered, pressing up against the wall beside the door. Carefully, he reached for the door handle with his left hand and twisted; it was unlocked. The door opened; he felt a tug of resistance the instant before he heard a _click_. 

He thought of Steve waiting at home and closed his eyes.

Heat and fire engulfed him; a roar like a train hitting his ears. The explosion sucked the air from his lungs; he felt his lips and face burn. He couldn't even scream when he collided with the barrier and then punched through it. Shattered plywood exploded around him. All he could hear was the ringing in his ears and he knew - he just _knew_ \- he wasn't going to make it home this time.


	2. Chapter 2

TWO YEARS LATER

Summer sunshine was tempered by a cool breeze lazily teasing the leaves on the oak tree outside, its branches shivering with the sharp movements of flitting songbirds. It was a quintessential, perfect summer day meant for picnics and drinking cherry soda.

Steve Rogers sighed as he propped open the front door of his townhouse. A perfect day meant that everyone was going to have better options than hauling boxes and furniture for an old college buddy. Rather than feel sorry for himself, he turned to the mountainous task ahead of him and jogged down to the street to open up the waiting U-Haul truck. He spent a few minutes trying to determine the most efficient packing strategy, pretending the space was a three dimensional game of Tetris. It wouldn’t be fun, but none of it would move itself while he stood there.

“Get it together, Rogers,” he muttered under his breath.

He started with the living room, breaking down the couches and hauling them piece by piece to the truck. He’d already boxed up the movies and most of his music collection, but the stereo system still needed to be disassembled; he’d saved that for last, thinking he could have music playing while he hauled boxes. Since no one had shown up to help, he put in a jazz CD and turned it up loud enough to be heard on the sidewalk. If Thor and Tony had both come, they would’ve spent an hour arguing over what to listen to; as silver linings went, it wouldn’t keep his back from being sore by the end of the day, but it was something. With soft notes of piano and saxophone wafting through the space, he felt instantly felt more relaxed. This was just another challenge to overcome and he’d known plenty of those.

By mid-morning, he managed to get most of the living room into the truck and started on the small office space. He had a top heavy box of files in his arms when he nearly knocked over someone standing on his front porch. Stumbling, he managed to keep the box from tipping and spilling open.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. He froze when he saw who it was.

Loki Laufeyson reached out and caught the edges of the box, helping to steady it. “I see the baseball game was more important.” 

Steve laughed. “If I had box tickets, I’d be there too.”

Loki’s smile was little more than a flash of teeth. “Where should I start?”

“Office. Up the stairs to the right. Boxes are first. They’re heavy.” Steve watched Loki nod and step past him, then head up the stairs two at a time.

Of all the people in the world he’d thought would show up to help him move, Loki was the absolute name last on the list. They were barely acquaintances, never mind friends. He wasn't even certain how Loki had known to show up, but still, beggars couldn’t be choosers and he had some furniture that would take at least two people to get into the truck. He hurried to stow the box and met Loki at the base of the stairs. 

“Just anywhere, I guess. I’m trying to keep the heavy stuff toward the bottom.” 

Steve felt his cheeks burn at the obviousness of his words. Being around Loki had always made him feel like he was coming up short, as though he reverted to the awkward, skinny teenager he’d been before hitting an unexpected growth spurt. 

Although Steve had been friendly enough with Loki’s brother Thor for years, they traveled in different social circles and he hadn’t spent much time around Loki and didn't know much about him other that what had ended up in the news. At one point, Loki had been a regular feature and not in a good way. But he'd only recently returned from abroad; no one really knew for sure what he’d been doing or where he’d been. Even Thor was strangely tight lipped about it, saying only that there had been a sort of attempted hostile takeover of his father’s company and Loki had been involved. All had been forgiven, according to Thor, although it didn’t quite seem to be forgotten. 

The mystery only added to the aura of intrigue, but there was a quiet elegance to Loki that always made Steve think of grand pianos and ballrooms with crystal chandeliers, though Loki’s reputation leaned more toward dance clubs and imported vodka. He still managed to look classy in black jeans and a deep lavender vee neck t-shirt, his sunglasses clipped into the vee so that the weight tugged the fabric down to expose his collarbones.

“Rogers,” Loki said. He sounded as though he’d said it a few times.

“Sorry. Spaced out there for a second.” Steve jerked his gaze away from Loki’s collarbones and ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to get his bearings. “Um, maybe the desk next? It comes apart. Just…just let me grab a screwdriver.” He fumbled in the hall closet for the toolbox. Grabbing two screwdrivers, he hurried back to the office and held one of them out to Loki. 

“Just the ones on the side?” Loki’s long, pale fingers slid down the edging of the desktop.

“There are more in the back. We’ll have to move it out from the wall to get to them.” 

Loki gestured with the screwdriver. “If you take that corner.” 

The desk came apart easily enough with two of them working. Steve kept his focus on the screwdriver and trying not to bang his elbows or knuckles against anything while carrying the pieces down the stairs. He’d lived pretty sparsely all through college and this was probably the last move he’d make before the detritus of living began to build up. The office was emptied out in under an hour. The bedroom was next; he’d already packed up clothes, books, and knick knacks so there wasn’t much beyond the bed.

“How old is this mattress?” Loki tested it with his fingers, eying the bed like he might look at trash left out at the curb too long.

Steve didn’t how old it was since he’d inherited it from a former roommate. He tried not to stare when Loki stretched out over the bed, rolling to his back and wriggling in an attempt to get comfortable.

“This mattress should be illegal, Rogers,” Loki informed him with an air of authority. “I don’t know how you manage to sleep on it. It must be killing your back.”

Steve shrugged. “I do okay. I’m not picky.”

“Tell me you don’t inflict this mattress on any poor, unfortunate women you bring home.”

“Just the men.” He was a little proud that he’d managed to say something he thought was clever and casual, even more proud that he thought he was actually pulling it off. Closing up the last box of clothes, he forced himself not to look at Loki as he headed out. When he returned, Loki had already propped the mattress and box spring up on their ends and set them at the ready against the wall.

“Unless you wish to remain single, you should burn this thing and get a new one,” Loki said mildly as he grabbed one end of the mattress.

“What makes you think I’m single?”

Loki peered around the mattress, one eyebrow raised. “I don’t see anyone else helping you haul this atrocity.”

“Maybe they were busy.” It sounded like a flimsy excuse even to Steve, but he caught a glimpse of a smile on Loki’s face and realized he’d taken it as a joke rather than thinking Steve was pathetic. It took them some time to wrestle the mattress into the back of the truck. 

“What about you," he asked, as much for the break as curiosity. "Last I heard, you were dating some publishing heiress.”

Loki raked a hand through his hair, which only seemed to encourage the curls beginning to appear with the rising afternoon humidity. “I prefer not to be tied down. Weren’t you seeing someone? Thor mentioned something.”

“There was Peggy, but that was a long time ago.” Steve figured that’s who Thor would’ve mentioned, since it had been serious enough for Steve to approach Thor about being a groomsman at his wedding. Life had had other plans for both of them and Peggy was halfway around the world now, running a non-profit that worked to combat human trafficking. “Or Bucky, maybe. We broke it off last fall.” 

“What happened?” Loki sounded casual, as though this were simply conversation he was making as they worked.

“The usual. He wasn’t looking to settle down, wanted to travel. I was finishing school and looking for a nine to five, white picket fence, all that. We try to grab a beer or something whenever he’s in town though, no hard feelings.” He didn't mention the injury that had turned Bucky's life, and his, upside down. It wasn't his story to tell and he'd never cared, he'd loved Bucky regardless, but it had been a life altering change for Bucky; one their relationship hadn't survived. 

They hauled the rest of the bed frame to the truck and emptied out the bedroom. That cleared out the second floor of the small townhouse and left the kitchen and living area. He waited until there were only boxes and small appliances remaining to continue any attempt at conversation.

“Are you back in the States for good then?” 

“For now.” Loki adjusted his grip on the box. There was a minute shift in his expression, as though he was weighing his words. “Before Mother died, she asked me to come home. So here I am.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Steve said quickly. He hadn’t been able to attend the funeral.

“I saw the flowers you sent to the funeral home.” Loki gave him a thoughtful look. “Tiger lilies were her favorite. Did you know that?”

“I thought they might be. She always had them around.” He didn’t press further and Loki didn’t offer any more information.

The remaining boxes went quickly and soon the townhouse was empty. Steve locked the door before closing up the truck. He’d have to be back to clean and hand over the keys, but he had a few days before his lease was officially up. He texted Loki his new address and climbed into the truck. 

It wasn’t until he pulled up to the curb and saw Loki standing on the cracked sidewalk beside a sleek black Jaguar that he realized how small and ugly the house was in comparison to what Loki was accustomed to. The lawn was long since dead and the chain link fence around the small yard had rusted nearly away in sections and it sagged dreadfully In others. He cringed as he opened the rusted metal gate and half wished the cracked, rotten boards of the wide porch could open up and swallow him whole. Between the peeling paint and the dirty dishwater gray siding, the house looked tired and worn down by time. 

The inside was slightly better. There were minor repairs and updating that needed to be completed, but the heavy lifting of electrical, plumbing, and central air had been done by the previous owner. He propped open the front door and made a quick check to be sure the way to the kitchen was clear. He was very glad he’d thought to clean the place from top to bottom before he moved. Loki was standing in the entryway when he turned around.

“Are the floors original,” Loki asked.

“The banister and moldings as well. The original owner was a carpenter and he added a lot of his own touches. The bedroom has custom shelves and there’s a sunroom off the kitchen with some pretty unique woodworking.” He followed Loki back down the narrow walk. “It needs a lot of work, but it’s got potential. And I got an amazing deal on it.”

“Foreclosure?”

“Yeah. The neighborhood’s a little rough now but the city’s been putting money into the area. A lot of rezoning and rehab type of projects. There’s going to be a park down the road with a jogging path. In a few years, it’ll be better.”

Loki nodded. “The old factory they’re converting into artist studios isn’t too far from here, right?”

“About a mile. I’m just on the edge of all that and hoping it’ll spread a little further.”

“How many bedrooms?” Loki was back to the tone of casual interest, keeping the conversation going while they hauled boxes.

“Just one. The angle of the roof makes the second floor mostly unusable except as storage. But I don’t need a lot of space. And there’s an unfinished basement that I can turn into whatever I need it to be.” Steve rambled comfortably about the house, not really thinking much about it. He told Loki about the stress of buying his first home, getting the mortgage, dealing with the Realtors and the bank, and the seemingly endless amount of paperwork. To his credit, Loki listened without laughing, even though his family owned half the city and scraping together a down payment probably wasn’t a concern for either him or Thor.

Unloading seemed to go faster. Steve figured it was because they weren’t bothering with any stairs and simply piling everything wherever they could find floor space. It would take several days for him to unpack and get settled; he was looking forward to that. The sun was beginning to set when he closed up the back of the truck for the last time.

“I was planning on ordering pizza for anyone who came to help me and picking up a six pack after I return the truck. My bike’s at the rental place.”

Loki shrugged. “I’d like to get home and take a shower.”

“Right. Of course. I mean, that’s fine.”

The corner of Loki’s mouth turned up in a half smile and there was a glint in his eyes. “I can be back in an hour.” 

“Great. That’s perfect. An hour’s perfect.” He was almost to the driver’s door of the truck when he realized he hadn’t asked about toppings. “Loki! Wait! What kind of pizza do you like?”

“Anything’s fine. If I don’t like something, I’ll just pick it off. Don’t bother with the beer though. I’ll bring something with me.” He waved before sliding behind the wheel of the Jaguar.

Every stop light felt as though it took forever and by the time Steve had dropped off the rental truck, called in a pizza delivery order, and driven home, he was mentally counting down the minutes until the hour was up. The thought of being home made him feel pleasantly warm and comforted, even if it was a fixer-upper. His phone buzzed in his pocket as he let himself in. 

Natasha Romanov’s voice came through the speaker. “Steve! Where are you? We just got here.”

“A little late, Nat. I’m all moved, truck is returned.”

“Shit. Sorry Steve. We thought the game would be over hours ago.”

“Don’t worry about it. Everything worked out.”

“Did you move all by yourself?”

Steve hesitated. He had to hunt through a couple of boxes to find a change of clothes to wear and the box with soap and shampoo. “Actually, Loki helped me move.”

“Loki? As in…”

“One and the same.”

Natasha whistled. “Is he still sex on legs?”

“Is that all you think about?” He felt his face heat.

“It’s always been a damn shame he’s such a jackass. Such hotness but such a dick. Really not fair.”

“He was perfectly nice today.”

“I guess Europe was good for him. Are you good then? Do you need beer?”

“I’m good. Right now, all I want is a shower. Once I’m unpacked, I’ll have everyone over. You can bring beer then.”

“I’ll twist Clint’s arm and he’ll pony up some steaks for the grill.”

“It’s a deal.” He tossed his phone onto the nearest box and bolted into the shower with a towel and body wash.

Natasha would’ve laughed at him for having butterflies in his stomach. It was laughable because it was Loki, who dated heiresses and supermodels. The most Steve thought he might get out of this was a pizza and a drink and maybe something to fantasize about later, but he’d take that secret to his grave. 

When the pizza arrived, he was dressed in khaki shorts and a fresh t-shirt. When the doorbell rang again, he’d cleared space in the living room and reassembled the couch. He’d also managed to unpack enough of the kitchen boxes to have plates and glasses. Loki was standing on the porch in another vee neck t-shirt, this time an emerald green, and dark jeans. He held up a bottle of red wine.

Steve grinned as he accepted the bottle. “A little fancy for pizza, don’t you think?”

Loki reached for his back pocket and then held up a corkscrew, a wolfish smile spreading over his lips. “It’s your first night in your new home. You should celebrate properly. No less than wine will do.”

“Thank you.” Steve accepted the corkscrew, genuinely touched by the sentiment. “I hope regular glasses are fine.”

“I’m sure the wine won’t mind what shape they are.” Loki’s gaze moved restlessly and he stuck his hands in his pockets as he entered the living room. “What are your plans for this place?”

“The outside is first. I’d like to get repairs made before winter hits. The porch needs to be replaced, the siding, that sort of thing. The roof is only three years old so it should last awhile. I’ll wait on the yard until next spring.” He carried the pizza box, plates, and glasses out of the kitchen and set them on a box that could serve as a coffee table. Loki worked the cork out of the bottle and poured out the wine. “I’m not really set on lawn so I thought some flowerbeds and maybe a vegetable garden. It’ll be small, maybe just some tomatoes, but nothing beats a fresh tomato right off the vine, you know? And I think the sunroom could be converted into a sort of greenhouse. I’ve always loved orchids and it gets pretty good sun all year round.”

“Orchids?” 

“Yeah.” Steve looked up from his slice of pizza as he took a bite. He reminded himself to chew and swallow before saying anything else. “You seem surprised.”

“I had, perhaps, made assumptions about you. Before today.” Loki piled a couple slices of pizza onto a plate before settling onto the couch. 

“This is the first time we’ve really spent time together. Just the two of us.” He hoped that Loki didn’t notice him clearing his throat nervously. He’d never expected wine to go so well with pizza, and he was fairly certain it was really expensive wine at that, but he was glad for something stronger than beer. “I don’t really know much about you, just what Thor has told me. And you showed up to help me move, which I’m grateful for.”

“Would you like to know more about me,” Loki asked lightly. He gave Steve a measuring look.

Steve swallowed. “Is that a trick question?”

“Perhaps.”

He used finishing the rest of his pizza slice to buy time. “I wasn’t trying to pry into your personal life. If you’re not comfortable with talking, that’s fine.”

Loki chuckled a little. “Relax.” 

“Right. While you run circles around me with words. You’ve always been good at that.” He grabbed a paper towel to get the pizza grease off his fingers before settling back against the couch with his glass of wine. “I’m pretty much an open book.”

“Hardly,” Loki murmured as he drank.

“Come on. I’m not that interesting.” He gestured vaguely toward Loki. “You’re mysterious and exotic and-”

“Exotic?” Laughing, Loki shook his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean. You’ve traveled all over the world. I bet you speak more than one language.”

“Five, actually.”

“See? That’s amazing. I think that’s amazing.” He paused, feeling the flush in his face that came with the buzz from the wine and the proximity to Loki. The t-shirt made Loki’s eyes look intensely green; it was snug over the planes of his sides and stomach, teasing what lay beneath. His head was spinning and a lot of very bad ideas were going to start looking pretty brilliant soon. Loki bit at his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. Steve stared openly for a moment before he realized Loki had noticed.

“I should go,” Loki said softly. He set his glass, still half full of wine, on the box as he stood up.

Swallowing down a protest, Steve managed to smile. “Thanks for helping me move. And for the wine.”

“Thank you for the pizza.”

Steve followed Loki to the front door and held it open. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Maybe.” On the porch, Loki seemed to look everywhere but at Steve, hands his jean pockets. “It’ll be interesting to see what you do with the place.”

“Yeah.” It felt awkward and Steve silently berated himself for making Loki uncomfortable. Maybe he’d come across as too forward, too transparent. That always seemed to be a problem with straight guys he was attracted to; he had a hard time finding the right balance of interest and pretending he wasn’t interested _that_ way. 

“Well, thanks again.”

Loki only nodded before he turned around and started toward his car.

Once the door was closed, Steve leaned his forehead against it and tried to take deep breaths. At least Loki had let him down gently and hadn't freaked out.

“Idiot,” he muttered under his breath. 

To take his mind off of his latest social disaster, he tidied up the living room. He shoved the leftover pizza, box and all, into the fridge along with the half empty bottle of wine. He finished off the rest of the wine in both his and Loki’s glasses before rinsing them out and adding them to the sink. A knock on the front door startled him. Frowning, he left the rest of the clean up for the morning. When he glanced through the peephole in the door, he was surprised to see Loki on the porch.

“Did you forget something?” 

There was a look in Loki’s eyes, an intensity, that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He had a second to register that Loki was stepping inside and kicking the door shut with his heel. Then Loki’s hands settled against his cheeks, surprisingly gentle, and he realized Loki was going to kiss him. 

His shocked brain managed to catch up and he pulled himself together enough to kiss back, hungry and open mouthed. His hands went to Loki’s waist where he could feel taut muscles beneath the soft fabric; it made him weak in the knees. Half to keep himself upright, he pushed Loki back against the door. The tip of Loki’s tongue slid against his lower lip, into his mouth, and the touch went straight down his throat, down his spine, and kick-started his libido. Loki’s body was lean against his, all bone and sinew, flat planes and angles that he could span with one hand. He pressed closer, as if he could squeeze even the last layers of oxygen molecules from between them.

“Loki,” he panted when he had to come up for air. Loki was breathing just as heavily, eyes half closed. His hands skimmed over Loki’s hips, one hand coming to rest against Loki’s upper back and the other digging into the back left pocket of his jeans. Leaning in, he dragged his lips down the side of Loki’s throat. “Is that what you came back for?”

Loki hummed in answer, arching into Steve’s touch like a cat wanting to be stroked. “You weren’t exactly subtle.”

Grinning, he nuzzled the collar of the vee neck to the side to bare Loki’s collarbone and then fastened his mouth on it, sucking hard. Loki shuddered and dropped his hands to Steve’s chest. Gently, he kissed the spot he’d marked. “I wanted to do that all day.”

“Did you? Anything else?” 

Steve turned his attention back to kissing Loki’s neck. “I have a few ideas. But we should definitely slow down.” He pulled back enough to catch Loki’s lips, keeping the kiss steady and lazy, though it felt no less heated than before. Loki dug a hand into his hair, fingernails scratching against his scalp in a way that made him shiver. It felt like an unspoken promise of more.

Loki finally pulled away, his lips swollen. “Then I should probably go.”

“Yeah. That’s probably the right thing to do.” Steve reached up to touch the dark bruise forming on Loki’s skin over his collarbone. “I want to see you again.”

“I’m leaving town tomorrow. For a few days.” Loki’s gaze drifted downward. When he looked up again, the tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I’ll call you when I get back.”

“I’d like that.” Reluctantly, Steve stepped back. He opened the door for Loki to leave a second time.

“Do me a favor,” Loki said over his shoulder as he started out.

“What’s that?”

Loki glanced back, a wicked smile on his lips. “Buy a new mattress.”

Laughing, Steve shook his head. He held up a hand to wave before Loki climbed into his car. His skin felt like he’d taken a brisk walk on the surface of the sun. He hunted for his phone, ignoring the fact that it was late, and started searching for the nearest mattress retailer.

**

The light was on in Odin’s study, but Loki had expected as much when he’d gotten the text telling him Odin had a job for him. He left the Jag in the driveway, not bothering to lock it, and stopped by the kitchen to snag a beer from the fridge before heading toward the inevitable.

“You’re late,” Odin said without looking up. He held up a manila envelope, waiting for Loki to take it.

“I came as soon as I could,” Loki lied. He’d chosen pizza and a glass of wine with Steve over running at Odin’s beck and call. He took the envelope before sitting down, sprawling over the chair and propping his feet up on the coffee table.

“You know I hate it when you put your feet on the furniture.”

Loki simply stared and drank his beer.

“Where were you?”

“Doing what you told me to do.” He looked the envelope over, seeing nothing that would indicate its contents. “I need a cover, right? And since you didn’t like my last cover, I’ve had to find a new one. Something to make my life seem normal and legitimate while I do your dirty work.”

“You are well paid.”

Loki rolled his eyes and swallowed down more beer. “And it’s always about money, isn’t it?”

Finally, Odin looked up, his gaze piercing and cold even with only one eye. “Thor has no stomach for this side of the business. You, on the other hand, are-”

“Lacking any semblance of morality or conscience. Yes, so you’ve told me a thousand times.”

Odin smiled slightly. “Gifted. Is what I was going to say.”

“A gifted liar and a sociopath. Weren’t those your words?”

“We each have our talents.” Odin leaned back in his chair. “You’ll find all the information you need in there. I expect a full report when you return.”

“Of course.” Loki had no intention of reporting anything other than the job was done and he would get paid. 

He left with a mock bow and a flourish. His own rooms were on the far side of the rambling estate, as far as he could get from Odin and still be in the same house. Idly, he wondered if the little house Steve had bought could fit into the estate nearly ten times over. Still, he’d felt more at home in the rundown cottage than he’d ever felt under Odin’s roof. From everything Thor had told him about Steve, he seemed too good to be true. That’s why Loki had chosen him. Part of it was a perverse desire to prove that no one could be the saint that Thor held Steve Rogers up to be, but he’d also been genuinely curious about someone who seemed so far from the world of treachery and deceit that Loki called his own. Steve would either be the best idea Loki ever had, or the worst. 

Finishing his beer seemed a higher priority; he left the envelope to lurk ominously on his desk while he drank. This had been the deal, return to the States and the family business. Or, at least, the side of it that Thor would have no part of because Thor had found God or religion or a girl; Loki didn’t particularly care. Even a gifted liar had to make his way in this world. He hadn’t been given Thor’s strength or his nobility, so Loki made do with the skills he had.

When he could put it off no longer, he dug out a silver letter opener and sliced open the envelop. Inside was a dossier on one, _Rumlow, Brock_ , who probably wasn’t a very nice person, for all it mattered. His background was typical enough. Rumlow grew up in poverty, ended up involved with organized crime; he’d garnered a handful of arrests for fraud, embezzlement, money laundering, and all of the usual charges. Briefly, Loki wondered who the illustrious Rumlow had stolen from to end up on Odin’s list but, in the end, none of that mattered. 

He found reservation numbers for his flights, as well hotel and rental car information. His pretense for being there would be to collect business documents sensitive enough to require an in person meeting, but not so important as to warrant Odin himself. He was on his own to figure out the rest. Glancing at his phone, he decided there was enough time to catch a few hours of sleep before he had to head for the airport. He tried to think more pleasant thoughts as he shed his clothes and sprawled out over his king-sized bed.

“This is what a mattress is supposed to feel like,” he sighed, closing his eyes as the tension began to ooze out of his joints.

His phone dinged just as he was about to drift into sleep. Groggy and disoriented, he scrambled for it and scowled at the sudden brightness of the screen. There was a text message from Steve.

_Queen or King?_

Laughing, he let his head fall back on the bed, holding the phone against his chest for a minute. At the very least, Steve would be entertaining until it blew up in their faces and Loki ended up being the bad guy. But then, there wasn’t any fun to be had if it was all smooth sailing.

 _King_ , he sent back. Moments later a smiley face popped up on the screen. He dropped his phone onto the bed and rolled over. 

Poor, sweet Steve didn’t stand a chance.


	3. Chapter 3

It turned out Brock Rumlow was also an amateur boxer, a fact Odin had conveniently left out of the dossier.

Pressing a bag of ice against his aching jaw, Loki glowered at his reflection in the hotel bathroom mirror. He was going to have a hell of a time explaining the black eye and split lip to Steve. For that matter, he’d have to explain it to Odin as well. One of the conditions of his continued employment was always having a cover story that could stand up under scrutiny, whether it came from the police, the IRS, or a Congressional hearing. Now he needed one that did not include getting punched in the face by a recently deceased Rumlow. With a grimace of pain, he swept up the bloody tissues and flushed them down the toilet. 

His phone was ringing. 

“Damn.” He tossed the bag into the sink. This was the last conversation he wanted to have. 

Odin’s voice came through in a snarl. “I sent you on a job a child could have managed.”

“It’s good to hear from you too, _Dad_.” Loki sat down on the end of the bed. He grabbed the remote control and began aimlessly surfing through television channels.

“Did you close the deal?”

“Signed, sealed, delivered. I’ll have the paperwork on your desk as soon as I get back.” 

“I heard there was a last minute change in the terms.”

“These things happen. I negotiated.” He paused on the weather report and his mood soured further when he saw the storms headed his way. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in an airport with a canceled flight.

“What about loose ends?”

“I’ll get them tied up.” He caught his reflection in the television screen and winced.

“How?” Odin demanded.

“I’ll improvise. You know me.”

“Yes. I do know you. I know you very well.” There was a warning in Odin’s tone.

“If there’s nothing else you’d like to yell at me about, I have an early flight in the morning.” Loki heard the call disconnect and pulled his phone away from his ear to glare at it. Odin was a cold blooded bastard, that was for sure. Outside the hotel, he heard the first rumble of thunder.

Perhaps the storms would be useful after all.

He waited out in the rain until the right opportunity presented itself. If anyone could call gritting their teeth before stepping out in front of an oncoming car an _opportunity_. The taxi wasn’t traveling at a high speed, due to the rain and the curve of the road, and he knew how to twist and roll, just enough to keep from being seriously injured. Still, he was digging gravel out of the heels of his palms afterward and had more bruises beginning on his right side. The police came, of course, and there would be an official report of the accident. To the relief of the taxi driver, he waved off the idea of pressing charges, insisting that he hadn’t been paying attention and had brought it on himself. A few bruises; no real harm done. 

By the time he returned to the hotel to shower, he was exhausted and stiff. He’d been x-rayed every which way to be sure there were no broken bones. No doubt Odin would see red over the emergency room bill. It didn’t take much to wring sympathy out of the clerk at the rental car agency or the flight attendants on the plane home. A smile, a little moan of pain, which he didn’t have to fake, and he had them eating out of his hand. Every good lie needed a little practice to be believable, and the best lies were so very nearly true the line between fact and fiction began to blur.

Sleep on the plane was fitful, despite the painkillers, and he wanted nothing more than a long soak in a hot bath by the time he disembarked. At least Odin sent a driver so he didn’t have to find his own way home. He handed over the briefcase containing the business documents to the driver. They were probably legitimate; Odin tended to keep a number of plates spinning at a time.

“Loki.”

Hearing Odin's voice, he managed not to pull a face as he slid into the backseat. “You hardly needed to meet me at the airport.”

“Imagine my concern upon hearing that my youngest son was involved in a traffic accident.” Odin fingered the ring on his left hand, his one eye never leaving Loki’s face. He waited until the car had pulled away from the curb and the glass pane between the back seat and the driver slid smoothly into place. “What happened?”

“Rumlow fought back,” Loki said tartly. He hunted through the mini bar tucked into the seat of the limousine and selected a tiny bottle of Jack Daniels. He drained it in one swallow, pulling a face as the alcohol burned down his throat. 

“It was supposed to look like an accident.”

“An accidental dead guy in a back alley. An accidental mugging gone accidentally wrong. Explains the defensive wounds, explains the signs of a struggle. All nice and neat for some beat cop’s paperwork.”

“Ballistics?”

“I’m not entirely stupid. I didn’t shoot him.” Loki sighed when Odin continued to scowl. “I stabbed him. That’s what happens when muggings go wrong. People get stabbed. Nasty business.”

“I pay you to be invisible.”

“He got lucky, that’s all. I’m good, but I’m not magic.” 

“I need better from you.” Odin turned to look out the window. “You’re no use to me looking like that. It’ll be weeks before I can send you out again. I made plans. They’re worthless now, because of you.”

“Spare me the melodrama.” Loki winced and held his ribs as he leaned back against the upholstery. “No one can possibly need to die so badly it can’t wait a couple weeks.”

“Payment was made,” Odin said sharply. 

“Always about the money.” With a sigh, he closed his eyes and wished more than ever for a hot bath. “I’ll think of something that doesn’t require me to show my face.” He hated the feeling of obligation, that he owed Odin loyalty or anything at all. He hated that he’d almost gotten out of this world, this life, only to be sucked back in. Now he knew there was no getting out and there never would be. He was good at this and he’d failed at everything else in his life, so there wasn’t much point in trying.

“I’ll need your plan in forty eight hours. No less.”

“You’ll have it.” Loki felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and cracked one eye open enough to read the screen. “I’m supposed to see someone tonight. You know, that normal life I’m supposed to have so no one suspects I’m Daddy’s little hitman.”

Odin seemed surprised. “A date?”

“That is what normal people do. They go out, they date, they fu-”

“Loki,” Odin interrupted irritably.

“TMI?”

“Do you intend to have your picture splashed all over the media this time?”

“I intend to drag your good name through as much mud as humanly possible. Just mud though, no blood. But don’t worry, it’ll be good, politically relevant mud you can twist to your benefit if you’d like.” Loki shifted, trying to get more comfortable. It was still a ways to go before they would be home. “If you’re not a fan of mud, I could always tell the truth.”

“If your mother could see you now.”

“Don’t.” Loki turned his face away and stared out the window.

There was no more conversation after that, which suited Loki just fine. He ignored the sound of Odin going through the files in the briefcase and dozed through several cryptic phone calls, although he thought one of the callers might have been Thor. Once they arrived, he left the car, purposefully ignoring Odin when he called after him. He wanted a bath; he wanted a gallon of whiskey; he wanted to be anywhere but on Odin’s leash and in Odin’s house. He made it to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes or jacket. After several minutes, he dug out his phone and rolled onto his back. It felt far too easy to dial Steve’s number. Easy meant trouble. Nothing in Loki’s life was ever easy, it only pretended to be easy to lull him into a false happiness that could be snatched away without notice.

“Loki! Hey, you’re back. How was your trip?” Steve sounded happy, delighted even, and a little out of breath.

“You sound like you’ve been running.” He let his eyes drift closed, trying to move as little as possible.

“Unpacking. The place is almost livable. You should see it.”

“Should I?” Loki mused.

“Have you eaten? There’s a great little Mexican place not far from here. It’s a hole in the wall but the food is amazing.” Steve could’ve been an alien from another planet; he sounded so normal. 

“Give me a half hour? Mexican sounds good.” He could hear the grin on Steve’s face through the phone and it was contagious.

“I can’t wait to see you.”

Loki smiled against the phone. “Half hour. I’ll be there.”

He wasn’t quite sure how he managed to shower and change, wincing and limping every step of the way. Given the painkillers he’d taken and the whiskey, he was pretty sure that he shouldn’t be walking, let alone driving, but he figured he was only young once. And the world would hardly miss a hired killer, would it? Those were probably rated somewhere below the scum of the Earth. He drove too fast, which was far too easy to do in the Jag, and ran a couple of red lights, but he made it to Steve’s little cottage in exactly twenty seven minutes. When he got out of the car and saw the light on the porch, he thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful and perfect as the rundown little box of a house. He dragged his fingers through his hair, still damp and tangled from the shower, as he waited for Steve to answer the door.

“Hey!” Steve’s grin faded and his eyes widened in shock. “What happened to you? Oh my god. Are you alright?”

“Fine, fine.” Loki let Steve pull him inside and for a moment he felt transported to his childhood when his mother - Frigga - would fuss over a skinned knee or scraped elbow.

“You aren’t fine. What happened?”

He shrugged, wincing at the pain in his ribs. “It was raining and I stepped in front of a taxi.”

“You were hit by a car?” Steve gaped at him. “Why aren’t you in the hospital?”

“I went to the ER and they took x-rays. Nothing’s broken, just a little banged up is all.” He tried to smile and that hurt too. 

The last thing he expected was for Steve to pick him up, literally, and carry him bridal style down the narrow hallway into the bedroom. The mattress gave easily beneath him and it felt like a cloud. Thank the stars Steve had followed through and bought a new mattress. He groaned as he tried to relax; everything hurt.

“I’m going to make you something to eat. You are going to stay here.”

“Steve,” he began.

“Your pupils are dilated and there’s whiskey on your breath. What painkillers did they give you?”

Loki didn’t protest when Steve undid his shoelaces and set his shoes aside. “I don’t need a lecture.”

“No lecture. Just tell me what they gave you so I know what I’m dealing with.”

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Loki fished out the orange bottle and held it out. “I took a couple before I left California. And on the plane. I think. It’s a little fuzzy.”

Steve frowned as he read the label. “You shouldn’t be drinking at all with these.”

“I feel fine.”

“You’re drunk and you’re stoned.” Steve reached out and pressed the back of his hand against Loki’s forehead. “They shouldn’t have let you leave the ER. Or fly. And you sure as hell shouldn’t be driving. What was so important that you couldn’t stay a couple extra days?”

Loki let his head fall back against the pillow and he gave Steve a lie that felt true. “Maybe I wanted to see you.”

“You’re an idiot.” But Steve smiled as he said it and leaned down to brush a kiss against Loki’s lips. “Now stay. You need to eat. Mexican is probably not a good idea, but I’ll throw something together. You rest. Let me take care of you.”

He caught Steve’s hand as he moved to leave, but found himself unable to think of anything to say. Instead, he just smiled and watched Steve leave, appreciating the way his ass looked in a pair of snug blue jeans. It felt good to lie still. Steve was probably right about all of it. He should’ve stayed in California - Odin wouldn’t have allowed that - and he shouldn’t have been drinking or driving or any of the above. But the alternative was something other than lying on Steve’s bed, which felt heavenly, so he decided he was fine with being an idiot in this situation. He could hear Steve in the kitchen. The casual domesticity of it felt surreal and comforting at the same time.

Ignoring the protests of the muscles in his neck and shoulders, he looked around Steve’s bedroom. It was small and tidy; the king size bed took up the bulk of the space. A narrow doorway led to a small closet and there were built in bookshelves on the far wall, filled to bursting with books. Those had been packed away into boxes before Loki had arrived to help Steve move, so he was surprised at the variety of subjects. Rather than a bedside table, there was a sturdy wooden chair beside the bed with a small lamp and Steve’s laptop on the seat. At regular intervals on the walls were post cards and photographs, an occasional letter or a ticket stub; bits and pieces of memories Steve wanted to keep. The room was very _Steve_ , he decided with a smile. It was a world away from the cold luxury of marble and stainless steel dominating Odin’s house. Even the bed beneath him felt homey; the patchwork quilt folded over the bottom of the bed looked handmade and the bed frame was carved wood with a warm, honey stain. 

It felt as though he’d only closed his eyes for a second before Steve was waking him up.

Steve helped him sit and set a tray on his lap. There was a bowl of chicken noodle soup, a plate stacked with buttered toast, and a bottle of Gatorade. “I need you to eat and stay awake a bit longer. Think you can do that?”

He managed a non-committal grunt in reply. It took some shifting to get comfortable against the headboard. He started with a piece of toast. Now that he was upright and faced with food, his stomach felt queasy and his hands shook. He felt cold and hot at the same time. As he nibbled at the toast, Steve pulled the quilt up over his legs and settled down on the bed beside him.

“You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten.” Steve smiled at him.

Loki felt a little flutter in his stomach. Steve had the kind of smile that could make people do very stupid things; he was easy to like. Once the word got out, which it inevitably would, maybe the press would be just another victim of Steve’s earnest, hometown boy charm. Loki wondered if he could use that to his benefit. He continued to eat in slow bites and Steve eventually retrieved a book from the shelves. A strange tightness settled in his chest as he watched Steve read. By the time he finished the soup and most of the toast, he did feel better. His head still felt foggy and a bone deep ache had settled into his right side. He held onto the bottle of Gatorade when Steve got up to take the tray back to the kitchen. 

“Better?” Steve climbed back onto the bed and picked up his book again.

“You don’t mind.” Loki gestured weakly. “All this.”

“Taking care of you?” Steve shook his head. “Not at all. Makes me feel useful.” With a little hesitation, he reached out and took Loki’s hand, pressing his lips against the back of Loki’s fingers.

Loki swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “I have a confession to make.”

“Oh?” Blue eyes were wide and accepting.

He shifted his hand so he could weave their fingers together. “I’ve never been with a man before.”

Steve frowned for a moment and then sat straight up, sitting cross legged. “Do you mean, are you straight?”

“Apparently not _that_ straight.”

“Wait, Loki. If this isn’t…”

Loki held on when Steve tried to pull his hand away. “Is it going to be a problem?”

“Are you, I mean, are you attracted me? Or is this…something else.” He looked away. “It’s okay if it’s something else. If you’re just experimenting or whatever. I just want to know, that’s all.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Loki sighed. His mind was too fuzzy to be playing these sorts of games. “What I meant was that I don’t know. There might be things…and I don’t want you to assume I know what I’m doing. I’m attracted to you. Very specifically attracted to you. This is new for me, that’s all.”

A look of understanding dawned and Steve laughed. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

Loki winced as he tried to shift onto his back. He felt like he needed to lie down before he passed out. The exhaustion was creeping in and it wouldn’t be long before it won out over any desire he had to remain conscious. Seeing his discomfort, Steve helped him ease onto his back. After a moment, he slipped under the quilt and pulled it up over both of them. The heat from Steve’s body was soothing, almost as much as the hot bath Loki had been craving since California.

“I wanted to be upfront about it,” Loki murmured, letting his eyes drift closed.

“So, you do want to have sex with me? Just so we’re clear. When it’s right. If it’s right. There’s no pressure. I’d like to. I’m interested. But I’m interested in you, sex or no sex.”

“Yes. Sex. Preferably when I haven’t been hit by a car. Just so we’re clear.” He rubbed a hand over his face, trying not to press against the bruises. Steve was entirely too adorable for his own good. “I’m not entirely sure how it works, which is embarrassing. I speak five languages and,” he managed to stop himself before he let anything incriminating slip. “I don’t have any experience fucking men.”

“What feels good to you is probably going to feel good for me too. Don’t worry about it.”

He was beginning to drift, lulled by the food and the warmth of Steve beside him. “You’ll have to show me the ropes. For lack of a better analogy.”

“I’d be happy to.” Steve nestled closer, but not close enough to press against the bruises on Loki’s side. “Get some rest. You’re going to feel like hell in the morning.”

“Steve?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

**

Dawn woke Steve. It took him a few seconds to remember he wasn’t alone. If anyone had told him he would ever, in his life, wake up next to Loki Laufeyson, he would’ve laughed at them. He slipped out of bed as quietly as possible and padded into the kitchen to start coffee. Thankfully it was Sunday and he had nowhere to be so he could let Loki sleep. He showered while the coffee was brewing and gulped down a protein shake. Already trying to decide what to make Loki for breakfast, he hummed a little as he grabbed his laptop and coffee and headed back to the bedroom. 

Loki was still sound asleep and curled in on himself like a child. Careful not to disturb him, Steve slipped back under the covers and settled his laptop on his thighs. Truth was, he could work in the living room more comfortably, but he didn’t want to be anywhere else. As the laptop booted up, he fought the urge to reach over and stroke Loki’s hair away from his face. It already felt like a whirlwind; he wondered if Loki was the type to go too far, too fast. There was a recklessness to Loki that was palpable; an undercurrent of self-destruction at odds with his seemingly unflappable poise. He’d mixed prescription narcotics with alcohol and then gotten behind the wheel, none of which seemed to bother him at all. In fact, he’d seemed more concerned with the idea that he might be bad in bed than having put his life at risk to see Steve.

He glanced at his phone on the bedside table, wondering. The only person he knew who might have insight into Loki was Thor, but asking Thor about Loki’s past seemed like an invasion of privacy. He left the phone where it was and tried to focus on work. It was mid-morning when Loki stirred and started to roll over, groaning as he rolled onto something that hurt.

“Ow,” Loki said, his voice rough. He went still immediately. “I feel like shit. Oh my god. I don’t even have words for how shitty I feel. I’d rather be dead.”

Steve tried not to smile. He set his laptop aside and got out of bed, moving around to Loki’s other side. “Try to move slowly. Can you sit up?”

“Sure. Why not?” Loki grimaced as he pushed himself into a seated position. “What’s next? Climbing Everest? Bring it on.”

“How about some Gatorade and painkillers?”

Loki pulled a face, but he accepted the bottle of Gatorade from the night before and a pain pill.

“Go slow. I’ll make some breakfast when you think you’re ready to eat.”

“I feel like shit,” Loki repeated, staring blearily at him. “Do I look like shit?”

“You look amazing.” Steve grinned. Loki looked like he’d gone a couple rounds in a boxing ring. His black eye was more pronounced than it had been the night before, proving to be an impressive shiner. There was more bruising along his jaw and the side of his face. From the way he winced, Steve figured his whole right side, from shoulder to hip, was probably black and blue.

The corner of Loki’s mouth quirked a little. “Liar.”

“Yeah, well, look both ways before you step out into the street next time.” He left Loki to finish the Gatorade and dug out a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. He set them on the bottom of the bed. “There are extra towels in the cupboard in the bathroom. Extra toothbrush under the sink.”

Loki gave him a strange look. “Are there bodies in the basement or something?”

“Huh?”

“No one is as decent as you are. You’ve got to have some dark, evil secret. Are you a serial killer? Did you invent shrink wrap?”

Laughing, Steve circled around to grab his coffee mug. “What you see is what you get. Holler if you need anything, I’m going to start breakfast.”

“You’re not real,” Loki muttered into his Gatorade.

Steve left to give Loki privacy. He started a jazz CD in the living room stereo and pulled out eggs and bacon. He still couldn’t believe they’d let Loki on the plane, but the ER doctor had probably told him not to fly and Loki had simply disregarded it. Worry tugged at him again and he wondered if he should try to talk to Thor. He refilled his coffee mug and popped open a can of ready-made biscuits. By the time the oven was done pre-heating, he heard the water start in the shower. 

His head was filled with ridiculous daydreaming as he started the bacon, humming along haphazardly with the saxophone melody. There was no way of knowing if anything would work out between him and Loki; they barely knew each other and Loki was as different from Steve as two people could get. But that didn’t stop him from anticipating what it would be like to eat breakfast together or walk around the city center. He thought of all the things he still wanted to pursue in his life - travel, explore - and it was easy to fit Loki into all of those dreams. He felt foolish, and giddy with it, even thinking about a future with Loki, but as long as it stayed inside his head, he figured there was no harm in dreaming. Idly, he wondered if Loki would be receptive to the idea of getting a dog. He didn’t know if travel was a regular part of Loki’s job. He didn’t actually know what Loki did other than being part of the family business. Now that he thought of it, he didn’t really know what Thor did either.

He had a plate piled with bacon and the biscuits were almost ready to come out when he heard the water shut off. Covering up the bacon, he started on the eggs and hoped Loki liked omelets. He hurried to chop up an onion and a green pepper to add as well, adding them, along with shredded cheddar cheese, into the pan.

“Of course you can cook,” Loki said from the doorway. The t-shirt, although small on Steve, draped loosely on Loki’s lean frame.

“I didn’t know how you took your coffee. I’ve got sugar and cream if you need it.” Steve waited for Loki to sit down at the bar before setting the mug in front of him. “Breakfast will be ready in a minute.”

Loki reached for the coffee mug and wrapped his hands around it, holding it tight. “You are a saint.”

“Promise me you’ll take it easy for a few days. And go see a doctor now you’re back.”

“Do I look that bad?” Loki blew on his coffee to cool it.

“You were hit by a car. What did you expect?” 

He flipped the first omelet over and set out two more plates. The oven dinged for the biscuits. He maneuvered the tray in the narrow kitchen, setting on the stove top to cool. All in all, he was pleased with how everything had come together. The bacon was still warm, the omelets had turned out nicely, and the biscuits were perfectly golden brown. He filled up Loki’s plate and slid it across the bar with a fork and knife, then started on the second omelet.

“Last night’s a little fuzzy.” Loki picked at his omelet with the fork. “Did I say anything completely boneheaded?”

“Not at all,” Steve reassured him quickly. His good mood dimmed a little as he wondered what Loki remembered and if he’d changed his mind in the light of day.

“Then we’re still planning on fucking, right? I didn’t hallucinate that part.”

Steve almost knocked the pan off the stove. When he saw the wicked look on Loki’s face and how hard he was trying not to smile because it clearly hurt, he just shook his head and threw one of the oven mitts at Loki’s head. “You’re asking for it.”

“Yes, I believe that was the point.” Loki winked at him.

“You are incorrigible.”

Loki laughed out loud, then winced, one arm going to his ribs, and he pressed his fingers against his split lip. “Mother used to say that. Frequently.”

“We should probably, um.” Steve paused as he transferred his omelet to the second plate. He grabbed a fork and knife and his coffee mug, balancing everything as he moved around to the barstool beside Loki and took a seat. “We should probably go out a few times. Before, you know, we have sex. Spend some time getting to know each other first.”

“No sex on the second date?”

“We haven’t even been on a first date yet. Helping me move doesn’t count. And neither does you showing up at my door looking like a car crash.”

“Pun intended, I assume.”

Steve dug into his omelet and they settled into a comfortable silence broken only by the crunch of bacon. He felt like he was on the top of the world. He was in his very own home, he had a great job, and he was sitting next to possibly the most gorgeous man he’d ever met, who was actually returning his interest. Anything else going right and he’d start to wonder if he was actually dreaming.

“So what do you do for fun?” Loki finished off his omelet and pivoted on the barstool so he was facing Steve. He picked up a biscuit and began tearing off pieces to eat.

He shrugged. “I’m a pretty simple guy. I like to run. Love a good baseball game. I was really into photography for a while. I majored in graphic arts in college and I do a lot of web design now, that kind of thing. Event posters, flyers, whatever comes into the shop. Love animals. Dogs, cats, whatever. Always wanted to travel but never seem to find the time. What about you?”

“I’m the family disaster.” Loki picked at his biscuit. “Graduated from college with a degree in political science, which is useless, and a degree in literature, also useless. Backpacked across Europe for awhile, going hostel to hostel, slept on some park benches and got yelled at in German. When Mother got sick, I came home.”

“How’d you lose your virginity?” Steve managed to keep a straight face.

“Wow. Okay. Her name was Angie. High school. Under the bleachers. I know, cliche. What about you?”

“Bucky was my first. We grew up together and when puberty hit, we sort of figured things out together too.” He stopped to take a sip of coffee. “We were off and on for years. I figure he’ll probably always be a part of my life in one way or another, just not as a partner, not like that.”

Loki cocked his head to the side. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as comfortable with their sexuality as you are.”

Unsure how to respond, Steve tried to choose his words carefully. “I always figured I am who I am, no point in trying to be something I’m not. But it’s not like that for everyone.”

“No, it’s not,” Loki said quietly. His expression turned thoughtful for a moment and then he visibly shook himself. “Odin would have a heart attack if he knew I was seeing a man.”

“Oh,” Steve squeaked. Thor hadn’t even batted an eye at the idea that Steve was bisexual so he’d assumed the whole family would be similarly open minded.

“He’s an ass.” Loki reached for his coffee.

“Are you…is this?” He had a sinking feeling Loki was subconsciously lashing out at his father.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Am I going to fuck you just to get back at him? No. I’m going to fuck you because you have an amazing ass and I want to. The fact that it will piss Odin off is icing on the cake.”

Suddenly, Steve wondered if trying to hold onto Loki was going to be like trying to hold onto barbed wire.

“That was a really shitty thing to say.” Loki closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re a good person, Steve. I’m not used to good people. I don’t know how to be around people who aren’t trying to stab me in the back.”

“Hey.” Steve reached out and let his hand rest lightly on Loki’s knee. “I’m interested in you. As you are. You don’t have to try to be anything for me. Just be you.”

Loki’s smile was shaky; he looked lost. “We should do dinner sometime.”

“How about Friday? Do you like Thai food?”

“Love it.”

Steve grinned. “Then it’s a date.”


	4. Chapter 4

Loki heard the bedroom door open. He glanced up from his desk, listening to the footsteps. Heavy, male; must be Thor. He turned back to the P18.9 he was cleaning. Thor rounded the corner; he stopped, eyes darting to the gun components on the desk. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Loki set down the cleaning brush and blew down the barrel to clear out the bits of debris left behind.

“Must you do that in the house? It’s bad enough that you’re working for Father again.”

“A living’s a living.” He slotted the spring rod back into the barrel, locking it in place. “You weren’t so squeamish in Afghanistan.”

“That was different.” Thor sat down on the bed, frowning. A frown seemed to be permanently etched into his face these days. “We were protecting people.”

“Whatever you tell yourself in order to sleep at night.”

“And what do you tell yourself?” Thor challenged. 

“I sleep just fine, Thor. Or have you forgotten that I’m the devil in this family? I’m the monster people tell their children about at night.”

“I said those words in anger.”

The last piece of the gun came together with a solid click. Loki slid the clip in and set it aside with the safety on. He wasn’t a complete idiot. “Did you come into my room for a reason?”

“Father says you’re seeing someone.” It was clearly Thor’s attempt to express an interest in Loki’s life.

“It’s been almost two months now. I suppose that’s a record.”

“Then it’s going well? What is she like?” Thor smiled a little hopefully. “Tell me about her.”

“It’s a surprise. But don’t you worry, it’ll be scandalous.” Loki grinned; it felt brittle. “The public relations disaster with Lorelei will pale in comparison.”

Thor clenched his hands into fists. “Why do you treat everyone as though they are mere toys for you play with? Mother wanted you to be happy.”

“Mother knew how to kill a man a dozen ways with nothing more than a bobby pin. You’re the one who turned your back on her,” Loki snarled.

“She wanted more than that life for us. For both of us. But especially for you." 

"Then she should've left me a different life in her will. Instead of a stockpile of bullets and the keys to a house none of us even knew she had.” It was a cruel, ungrateful thing to say, even for Loki, and the bitterness in his voice was only superficial. He hadn't taken the time to actually go look at the house she'd described so lovingly in her final letter. It was the place she'd gone to find peace and she'd left it to him, not Thor. He didn't deserve it; she'd probably known that. The bullets, however, he'd made good use of. Meeting Thor's gaze squarely, he shrugged. “We don’t all get what we want, do we?”

Shaking his head as he stood up, Thor raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know why I bother trying.”

“I never asked you to try.”

“You are my brother,” Thor said fiercely. “Like it or not, we are family.”

Loki swallowed and looked away. “Not anymore.” 

He heard Thor walk away, heard him leave, and sunk deeper into his chair once he was gone. His phone trilled to remind him that he needed to get ready for his date with Steve. He almost ignored it. He thought of a dozen excuses he could give for why he couldn’t see Steve that night, but he knew all of them boiled down to fear. 

Things were going unfathomably well. He knew Steve was working up his nerve to test their carefully bounded physicality of making out, which was getting increasingly heated. Steve would never push for sex, but he would _hope_ for it and Loki felt that hope like a lead weight. When Steve looked at him, it felt like a tidal wave sucking him down into oblivion and he wanted to give himself over to it and let it drown him. But he was fairly certain anyone who met Steve felt that way; it was impossible to know Steve and not want him.

Everything was going exactly the way he’d wanted, but there was no satisfaction in it. He’d begun to believe Steve really was as good as he seemed.

With his stomach in knots, he tried to tame the curls in his hair and eventually settled on a pair of jeans and a soft, cotton t-shirt. He found himself strangely unwilling to risk the idea of even a random photo appearing on Twitter. His hiatus in Europe had been long enough for him to fade from the attention of the press vultures, but that didn’t mean they wouldn't relish another chance at his throat. Exposure to the press was inevitable and he knew it; he desperately wanted to keep this to himself as long as possible. Steve deserved more than being thrown to the hyenas and chewed up by Odin’s PR machine.

“Idiot,” he muttered as he slid into the driver’s seat of the Jag. 

He drove to Steve’s house on autopilot, barely seeing where he was going. He pulled into the narrow driveway behind Steve’s motorcycle and shut off the engine, staring at the house. It was easy to imagine all of the changes Steve wanted to make and he genuinely wanted to watch Steve’s dreams come together into a reality. It was a simpler life than Loki could even imagine; an honest life. His fingers shook as he pulled the keys from the ignition. The porch light was on. He heard the subtle notes of a saxophone after he rang the doorbell. His heart felt like it was in his throat by the time Steve opened the door.

“You’re early.” Steve smiled brightly

Loki stepped inside and waited for Steve to close the door behind him. He felt frozen, his hands in his jacket pockets and his heart pounding against his ribcage.

“I was thinking.” Steve’s hands were warm through the fabric of his jeans, resting lightly on his hips and pulling him in. “Why not stay in tonight? We can cook dinner, watch a movie. Just the two of us. How does that sound?”

He managed a half smile. “I’m not much of a cook but I’m handy enough with a knife.”

“Excellent.” Steve leaned in to kiss Loki on the lips. It was light, tentative, and felt like a question, as though he was testing the waters and seeing which way Loki might go.

Loki kissed him back, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets. “What did you have in mind?” he murmured. He meant dinner; he after dinner; he meant all of the above. 

“I’ve got some chicken marinating.” Steve pulled back, his expression thoughtful. “You’re tense. What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Loki tried to smile. He’d argued with Thor, which always ripped open old wounds he wanted to forget. And if Steve had any idea who he really was - _what_ he really was - he wouldn’t even be able to look at Loki with anything but horror and disgust. On top of that, it was clear from the home cooked dinner and the soft music that Steve was going to see if Loki was receptive to going further in the bedroom.

“Bad day at work?”

He knew Steve wouldn’t stop trying to cheer him up if he didn’t give him something. For all his kindness, Steve had the stubborn tenacity of a mule; he never gave up. With a shaky sigh, Loki lowered his head - he did try not to lie straight to Steve’s face - and raked a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing. Really. Just…just me being an idiot.”

“Hey. You’re not an idiot.” Steve pulled him in, massaging Loki’s back. “You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

“It’s just.” Loki bit his lip. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. They fit together amazingly well and the solid bulk of Steve’s body was an anchor for all the turmoil in his head. “We’ve been going out for a while now.”

“Yeah. I think things are going pretty well. I’m having a good time.”

“Yeah, of course. Really well. And I…I guess…”

“Wait.” Steve laughed, shaking his head. He leaned away and caught Loki’s hands. “Is this about sex?”

Loki pulled a face. “I’m not entirely sure how I should feel about having you balls deep in my ass, alright? That’s kind of…kind of a big deal. For me.” His voice snagged at the end. The best lies always contained bits of truth.

“Loki.” Steve was trying not to smile and failing miserably. “First, we’re not going to do anything you aren’t ready and wanting to do. There’s no pressure. Second, we don’t have to do _that_. There’s no script, no rules. It’s about you and me and enjoying each other. We’ll figure it out as we go along.” He leaned in again, easing Loki back against the front door. His lips felt like they were burning a track down Loki’s neck. “And there’s a lot we can do besides anal.”

“Is there?”

“Definitely. Just use your imagination.” The tip of Steve’s tongue traced a warm, wet line over the pulse in his neck.

It was too easy to let himself sink back against the door, hands on Steve’s hips as though his grip was the only thing keeping him from tumbling backwards. Easy to pretend he was just a regular guy with a desk job and a 401K; just a guy with a boyfriend who looked at him like he was something wonderful. His brain stuttered a little at thinking of Steve as his boyfriend, but it didn’t feel _wrong_. The surge of possessiveness was unexpected and mixed with panic, because he hadn’t been looking for anything but a cover and maybe a good lay. 

“You’re tensing up again.” Steve pulled away, frowning. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Loki opened his mouth and then shut again. He let his head fall back against the door. He’d never been the one to ask for more in a relationship; he’d barely had anything that could be considered a relationship to begin with and that was how he liked it. No strings, no attachments, nothing that could tie him down or hurt him. He couldn’t do this; he didn’t think he could actually go through with it. Not now; now that he knew Steve really was everything Thor had said he’d be.

Taking Loki’s hands, Steve tugged him forward and headed into the living room. He sat down on the couch and Loki took seat beside him. “I’m good at a lot of things but I’m still working on mind reading.”

Smiling faintly, Loki didn’t pull away when Steve took his hand. “You have chicken marinating.”

“It can wait.” Steve frowned. “I wasn’t trying to push you into having sex. You can even tell me that you don’t want to have sex with me at all, ever, I’ll be okay with that.”

“It’s not that.”

Steve looked skeptical. “Are you sure? I’d like you to talk to me about it. If there’s anything I can do to put you at ease, I want to know. If you’re worried about not having experience, please don’t. I’m going to be happy with anything we do, I promise.”

He entwined his fingers with Steve’s, holding his hand loosely, and looked away. “I’m not used to being on this side of the fence, that’s all.”

“Is there anything specific you’re worried about? I don’t want to sound too much like a sex ed teacher, but if it would help. We’ll be safe. I always get tested when I go in for a physical, if that’s what you’re worried about. There hasn’t been anyone since Bucky left so I haven’t in awhile, but-”

“Not that. I didn’t mean,” he interrupted. “I’m not a long term kind of guy. I don’t make promises because I know I won’t keep them.” The words felt like they were sticking in his throat.

“Oh.” Steve let out a shaky laugh. “That’s what this is.” 

Loki felt something twinge painfully in his chest when Steve pulled his hand away and stood up.

“I’m gonna guess that a couple months with the same person is probably as far as you get.”

“Usually less,” Loki answered; he felt empty. “One night is more my style.”

“Guess that makes me special then.” Steve sat down in the armchair, elbows on his knees, and pressed his face into his hands. He took several deep breaths before he looked up. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s okay. We’re both adults here, right? We had a good time, it just isn’t working out.”

Loki swallowed. “Steve.” 

“I get it. Really. I do.”

“You don’t get anything,” Loki snapped before he could think better of it. The guilt was sour in the back of his throat and he was suddenly furious. Furious with himself for getting involved with Steve in the first place, furious for Steve for being Steve, furious with his family and the entire world for not letting him have anything he truly wanted.

Eyes flashing with anger, Steve sat back in the chair. “You’re scared and you’re running away. What else is there to get?”

Hands balling into fists on his thighs, Loki tried to keep his voice even and went for the least painful justification he could think of. “You don’t get it. When the goddamn journalists find out…we’ve been lucky so far but that won’t last. You don’t know what it’s like to have people think they own the rights to your life. That they deserve to know what goes on in your bedroom. You have no idea. And they’ll come after you. They’re going to turn your life inside out, dig up every single secret you have. All the scandals, all the stupid shit I’ve done. They’re just waiting for me to do something worth printing.”

“So what?” 

“You don’t deserve that.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Loki leaned forward, rubbing at his forehead. “You deserve a normal life. This house. This pathetic little house that you worked so hard for and you don’t know how amazing it is. How amazing this stupid little house and your perfectly normal life is. I can’t take that away from you.” 

“What do _you_ want?”

“It’s not about what I want.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. That’s all that matters. Forget the press, forget the rest of the world. Tell me what you really want. Don’t think about it, just say it.”

His throat felt tight and his tongue stuck against the back of his teeth. “I can’t.”

“Do you want to be with me?” Steve’s tone softened. “It’s okay to be afraid, but don’t leave just because you’re scared. And don’t you dare leave because you think that’s best for me. You don’t get to make that choice. Maybe people will care, maybe they won’t. Maybe I’ll be able to handle it and maybe I won’t. But that’s on me, not you.”

Loki shut his eyes tightly. Part of him - the part he loathed - was smug in knowing Steve had risen to the occasion and played his part perfectly, just as Loki knew he would. Steve was a champion at heart, always looking for a cause to believe in and a noble dream to fight for.

“I’m going to start dinner. If you want to stay, I’d like you to.”

He listened to Steve’s footsteps and the sounds of him moving about the kitchen, opening cupboards. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Steve called, his voice muffled.

Loki hesitated, thinking maybe for once he should do the right thing and walk away before Steve got hurt, and then he relented, hating himself for it. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the arm of the couch. Steve had set out a dish of chicken marinating in a light sauce, along with large onion and several green peppers. 

He glanced up when he heard Loki enter the kitchen. “I’ve got beer and wine. If you’d like something stronger, I don’t have a lot in terms of mixers.”

Moving to the cupboard beside the sink, Loki took down two tumblers and set them out. Steve kept his liquor on the top of the fridge where it was easy to grab. “What’ve you got?”

“Cranberry juice and tonic water.”

He snagged the neck of a bottle of gin and pulled it down. “Cranberry juice.” He set the gin next to the glasses. Steve already had a tray of ice cubes in his hand when he turned around.

“I have a pre-made salad and I thought garlic bread would be good.” Steve flipped the knob on the stove to start it pre-heating.

“Sounds fine.” Loki poured the drinks, setting Steve’s out for when he was ready. “How much onion do you need?”

“The whole thing. Unless you don’t want that much.”

“It’s fine.” He set his drink down to start on the onion, trying not to think about anything beyond the knife in his hand.

“How much of it was true,” Steve asked quietly. “What they wrote in the papers about you. Before you went to Europe.”

Loki neatly sliced the ends off of the onion. Steve had no idea that the truth was far worse than anything that had been printed in the papers.

“I don’t think any less of you. If you’re worried about that. Even if it was all true.” 

“Cocaine fueled weekends and a parade of women whose names I don’t remember, none of that bothers you? I’m no choir boy.”

“And the heiress you were engaged to?”

Loki winced. “Lorelei.”

“What about her?”

“Some people, when you’re around them, they make you better. They bring out the best in you. And some people bring out the worst.” He pushed aside a mound of onion slices. “Lorelei and I brought out the worst in each other. Together, we were a disaster waiting to happen. I heard she’s in Los Angeles now, acting or modeling or something.”

Steve moved to his side and reached for one of the peppers, slicing into it to remove the core. “Are you still using?”

The knife thudded against the cutting board a little too loudly. “No. Went to Europe to get clean, clear my head. Get away from everything. Well, that and Odin insisted I disappear until the scandal died down.” He gave Steve a sidelong glance. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“It makes sense, I guess.” Steve’s smile was sad. “The way you run hot and cold when it comes to sex. The self-destructive tendencies, the self-loathing, feeling like you don’t deserve to have good things happen to you.”

Loki stilled, knife buried halfway in the onion; if he tried to speak, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get the words off his tongue. Kicking himself mentally, he forced his hands to move again and told himself the blur of his vision was just the onion. Once he was finished, he picked up his drink and surrendered the rest to Steve. He watched Steve add the onions and peppers to the casserole dish, along with a handful of other spices, and tried, again, to convince himself to make a clean break and walk away. 

“That has to cook for almost an hour.” Steve slid the dish into the oven and set the timer. “We could start a movie, if you want. There’s always Netflix.”

“Sure.”

“Refill?” Steve motioned to his glass.

Loki hadn’t even realized he’d finished his drink. He handed over the glass. “I drink too much,” he said lamely, unsure why he was even saying it.

“I’m not the vice police. I am going to take your car keys though.” Steve winked at him before pouring out more cranberry juice.

“Good.”

“You’re welcome to stay the night.” He dropped fresh ice cubes into the glass. “I’ll take the couch.”

Loki accepted the drink and hoped Steve didn’t see his hand shaking. “I would like that. Would like to stay that is. But you don’t need to sleep on the couch. If you don’t mind sharing your bed.”

There was a glint of mischief in Steve’s eyes. “I’ve been trying to get you back into my bed for weeks, in case you hadn’t noticed.” 

He followed Steve into the living room and sat down on the couch, back against the arm rest, while Steve worked on getting a movie playing. The gin was starting to make his thoughts a little fuzzy around the edges and he felt pleasantly warm. He knew Steve was entirely too good for him but he didn’t want to give this up either. It was selfish, but according to Thor and the Daily Post, selfish was what Loki did best. He tried to wash the taste of guilt out of his mouth with gin and cranberry juice.

“What’re you in the mood for? Action? Drama?” Steve navigated through the menus, bringing up descriptions of whatever movie or show caught his eye.

“I,” Loki stopped. 

Steve glanced over his shoulder. “See something?”

Clearing his throat, Loki shook his head. “Whatever looks good to you. I don’t think I’ll pay much attention.”

“You okay?” Steve stopped on a television show with vampires that sounded vaguely familiar.

“Just distracted.” He sipped at his drink, wondering just how much gin Steve had added. The opening credits of the show started but he was more interested in watching Steve.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Steve laid his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against Loki’s knee.

“I haven’t been with anyone since I got back from Europe.” Loki swirled the ice cubes in his glass. “And I’ve been tested, all clear. That was one of Odin’s conditions.”

“What? Conditions?” Steve twisted to the side, frowning.

“He’s more worried about dirty needles than who I might be fucking. Can’t work for Odin if you’re a liability. Those are the rules.” He knew that was more information than he should give anyone, let alone Steve. The more Steve knew of the truth, the closer Loki got to losing him.

Steve looked sympathetic. “Have you thought about looking for another job?”

“Can’t say no to family.”

“You might have a better relationship with your father if you didn’t work for him. And you might get hit by fewer cars.”

Loki laughed, almost choking on a piece of ice. “So you’re simply concerned for my health?”

“It’d be a damn shame for anything to happen to that body.”

“Oh, really?”

“Especially your legs.” Steve laid one hand against the outside of Loki’s left knee and skimmed lightly up his thigh. “And your ass.” He leaned in to reach around and cup Loki’s left buttock. “And your shoulders, your hands, your throat, your lips. Your ears.”

“My ears?”

Steve’s breath was hot against his neck. “You can stop me any time.” 

“Don’t stop.” Loki didn’t resist when Steve tugged the glass from his fingers and set it on the coffee table. 

Steve’s lips tasted like gin and cranberry juice. He sunk back into the couch, Steve’s weight pressing him into the cushions. His skin was hot and tingling everywhere Steve touched. One of Steve’s thighs slotted between his legs, making him shudder. He tried to relax, tried to stop his mind from churning through worst case scenarios. With his eyes closed, his head spun a little, probably from the booze, and he held tighter to Steve. The kiss deepened; Steve’s tongue laved against his, a whisper of tartness remaining from the cranberry juice. A whimper escaped his throat when Steve pulled back.

“Easy.” Steve grinned down at him. His lips were stained and swollen. “We’re just going to make out until dinner’s ready. That’s all.”

“I thought you wanted sex.”

Steve gave him a look. “I’m not going to get you drunk to have sex with you. If I’m going to be, how did you so eloquently put it? Balls deep in your ass.” He was smiling as he leaned down to kiss the outside edge of Loki’s ear. “I want you sober and willing and asking for it. Enthusiastically, repeatedly, loudly, asking for it.”

“I’m not drunk,” Loki insisted.

“You’ve had enough. I am going to keep kissing you though.” Steve stopped any further protests by making good on that promise. He kissed Loki open mouthed, teasing with his tongue and occasionally nipping at Loki’s lips with his teeth.

He felt light headed and the blood rushing to his groin wasn’t helping. Steve kept his hands safely on Loki’s shoulders, though the way he was kissing wasn’t even remotely chaste. It was getting harder to breathe; he was all but panting. He tugged at Steve’s wrist, pulling his hand away from his shoulder and guiding him forcefully down his body. Irrationally, he didn’t think he could stand another minute without Steve touching him. He felt Steve shiver when his palm finally pressed against his erection. Steve cupped him gently, fingers fanning out; the sensations were muted by the layers of fabric between Steve’s hand and Loki’s skin. He arched his hips up, trying to feel more, but Steve kept his touch light and didn’t go further than that.

It was almost a relief with the kitchen timer buzzed and Steve left him on the couch to take care of the food. He gradually came back to his senses, his arousal fading to an ember. They ate quietly, most of their attention on the television show. Once it was over, Loki helped Steve rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher.

“Do you need anything to sleep in? I’ve still got the extra toothbrush in the bathroom.”

Loki wasn’t sure how to answer. He played along because it seemed expected and he didn’t feel like going back to Odin’s house. They navigated the small bathroom, brushing teeth and getting ready to go to bed without more than a couple of bumped elbows. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop but Steve was perfectly calm and pleasant. Taking his time, he was the last to finish and shut off the bathroom light. When he reached the bedroom door, he saw Steve sitting in bed with a book in his hands. He was wearing a white tank top and his hair was tousled, still damp from the shower.

He glanced up from his book, as though they did this every night. "Coming to bed?"

Moving stiffly, Loki twisted out of his t-shirt before sitting down on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes and socks. It felt awkward and vulnerable to strip down to his boxer briefs and slip beneath the covers. Lying on the bed, he tugged the pillow into a comfortable position and watched Steve read. The book was about military strategies employed during World War Two, which seemed like an odd subject for light reading.

“You could stay, you know, more than just tonight,” Steve said softly, not looking up.

“What?”

“This stupid little house. This boring, normal life.” Steve closed the book carefully and set it aside. “It’s not much, I know that, but it could yours too, if you wanted it to be.”

Loki felt his mouth go dry. He stared as Steve settled onto his side and reached out to take his hand, dusting light kisses over his fingertips. Swallowing, he forced himself to lie still rather than get up and bolt from the room. “What exactly do you mean by that?” 

Guileless blue eyes studied him and he felt himself being sucked into them. “Is it really that terrifying for you?” 

His voice came out rough. “Is what?”

“Cooking, getting ready for bed. Lying here with me.” The hint of a smile appeared on Steve’s lips. “Doesn’t seem so scary.” 

“Are you asking me to…” Loki trailed off, faltering.

“Not asking for anything. Just letting you know what I’m willing to give you. And maybe it’s not much compared to what you’ve got, but I’m putting it on the table anyway.”

Loki blinked. He’d never known anyone willing to offer anything without demanding a price he would never be able to pay. He kept his tone light, as though he was making a joke. “And do _you_ come with the little house and the normal life?” 

“For as long you want me. If that’s a month or a year, whatever, I’ll take it.”

He wanted more than anything to tell Steve to take it back, to take it all back because he didn’t know what he was saying; he didn’t know anything about who Loki really was. “And what do you expect in return?”

Steve frowned for a moment. “I’d like you to at least think about finding a new job. I can tell you hate it and it’s killing you.” The particular phrasing made Loki flinch and Steve immediately interpreted it as something else. “I’m not asking you to quit tomorrow morning or anything. Tomorrow’s Saturday for one thing, and I get that family is complicated. But you don't have to keep doing something you hate. You could do something you love. Something that makes you happy. I just want you to think about it.”

“Alright,” he said instead of _I can’t_.

“You don’t have to decide tonight. Just think about it.” Steve’s eyes shone with hope.

“I will,” instead of _I don’t deserve this_.

After a few minutes of silence, Steve rolled over to turn off the lamp on the bedside table. On an impulse, Loki followed and pressed against Steve’s back, one arm going around his waist to hold him close. He soaked in the heat from Steve’s skin, hungry for something he didn’t have a name for; he only knew he wanted it. Steve accepted the embrace, reaching down to take Loki’s hand and pull it up so he could brush his lips against Loki’s knuckles. 

There was more than a little desperation driving him when he shifted, pressing against Steve’s shoulder to push him onto his back. He didn’t give himself time to think, didn’t give Steve time to say anything, before he found Steve’s lips in the dim light and kissed him as though he could say _everything_ with that single kiss. He fumbled with the hem of Steve’s tank top to drag the fabric up and over Steve’s head. Strong fingers dug into his hair when he lowered his forehead to Steve’s chest, kissing and tasting his skin. He hooked his fingers over the waistband of Steve’s briefs and tugged. The quilt fell away as he moved to his knees and stripped the fabric the rest of the way down Steve’s legs. Leaning in close, he pushed lightly against the inside of Steve’s knees.

“Loki,” Steve whispered.

Rather than respond, he licked along the inside of Steve’s thigh. When he felt Steve jump, he stopped at that spot and sucked, hard; Steve moaned in response. He caught Steve’s hips, dragging his thumbs along the line of his abdomen, and then flattened his tongue against the spot he’d marked. Steve mumbled something unintelligible and reached for Loki’s hair again. He took his time, working his way up Steve’s thigh, until his cheek brushed against Steve’s swollen cock and both of them shivered.

“Wait, Loki, you don’t have to-”

Loki cut him off by curling one hand around the shaft and licking up the underside. He circled his tongue around the head several times before closing his mouth around it, keeping his lips over his teeth. He took Steve as deeply as he dared, trying to keep his breathing steady. He alternated between licking, sucking lightly, and swallowing; he almost wanted to turn the light back on so he could see Steve’s reaction and know if he was doing something Steve liked.

Without warning, Steve’s grip on Loki’s hair tightened. “Oh god, Loki. I’m gonna come, oh god…”

Loki made a split second choice and sucked the head of Steve’s cock into his mouth. Thick, bitter fluid spilled out onto his tongue as Steve shuddered beneath him. He swallowed, dragging his tongue leisurely over the slit before letting Steve slip from his mouth.

“You are such a fucking liar,” Steve said breathlessly.

Loki froze.

“There is no way that was the first time you've done this. No fucking way.”

He laughed, mostly out of relief. “Do you only swear during sex? I like it.”

“Do you?” Steve pulled him up against his chest, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him solidly. 

“I hope it was worth the wait,” Loki murmured against Steve’s lips.

“That was incredible,” Steve said earnestly. His hands slid down Loki’s back to grab his ass. “And I am going to make you feel so good. I promise.” 

Despite the nervous butterflies in his stomach, Loki tried to stay relaxed. “I’m listening.”

“Do you trust me?”

Loki’s heart skipped a beat and he was suddenly glad it was dark enough that Steve couldn’t see his reaction. “Whenever someone says that in the movies, it usually ends badly.” The butterflies redoubled when Steve laughed, loud and uninhibited.

“In this case, all it leads to is more sex.” Steve caught him, one strong hand against the back of his neck, and nuzzled against his ear. “Let me get a condom.”

Breath catching in his throat, Loki nodded and then realized Steve couldn’t see him in the dark. “Okay.” 

“I’ll just be a second.”

He shifted to the side, shivering at the sudden cold once Steve was gone. He’d been aroused before but it was quickly fading as his nervousness took over. He wanted a drink, or something stronger, and every alarm bell in his mind was going off as he heard Steve moving around in the darkness. The mattress shifted with Steve’s weight and Loki tensed, his hands locking down against Steve’s wrists when he felt him touch his sides.

“Easy, easy,” Steve soothed quickly. 

Loki bit his lip. “Steve.”

“Relax. The condom isn’t for me.” Steve’s lips ghosted against his ribs. “It’s for you.”

“Wait, what?” 

“You kinda assumed that I wanted to fuck you…and I do, when you’re ready for that. But I also really want you to fuck me.”

“What?” Loki repeated dumbly, his mind refusing to wrap itself around the concept.

“Just lie back. I’ll do the rest.” Steve’s hands skimmed down his sides and hips. “Trust me. This is going to feel good, you’re going to love it.”

Loki bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes. He didn’t like not being able to see what Steve was doing and it had nothing to do with sex. He tried to focus, tried to tune all of his senses to the sounds Steve was making and the physical sensations: the shifting of the mattress as Steve moved, the brush of Steve’s lips against his skin as he removed Loki’s underwear. He felt Steve’s fingers wrap around his cock, felt the rasp of his tongue against sensitized skin, and dug his own fingers into the blanket beneath them. Blood rushed to his groin and he bucked up into Steve’s hand. Time seemed to stand still and speed up at the same time. Steve’s lips and tongue were hot and wet and he thought he was going to fly apart with the intensity of it. He heard the rip of plastic as Steve opened the condom wrapper.

“Wait, Steve, wait."

Steve instantly went still. “What is it?”

“The light. Turn on the light. Please.” Loki didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t handle the darkness, couldn’t handle not seeing what was coming.

The lamp sprung to life a moment later and Steve was immediately at Loki’s side. “What’s up?”

“I,” Loki started. He swallowed. “I want to see you.” That was true enough.

Steve smiled, clearly pleased. He moved back, straddling Loki’s thighs, and plucked up the condom. One hand curled around Loki’s cock, stroking him lightly. Steve seemed to make a judgment, deciding Loki was hard enough, before he finished tearing open the small packet and pulled the condom out. He caught Loki’s cock and rolled the condom down over him with practiced ease, then he reached to the side, grabbing a plastic bottle he’d left on the bed. Liquid dripped through his fingers; he reached down to coat the Loki with it, top to bottom, and reached one hand behind him, eyes falling half closed as he worked the lubricant into his body.

He let his hands fall to Steve’s thighs, torn between watching Steve’s face and watching as he positioned himself. Then he felt the heat of Steve’s body, felt muscles clench around him, and he couldn’t look away from watching Steve sink down onto his cock even if he’d wanted to.

Steve’s head fell back, open mouthed, as his weight settled fully onto Loki’s hips. “Oh god, you feel amazing.” 

Loki bucked without thought when Steve rolled his hips, the muscles in his thighs pulling taut. It was tighter, hotter, than he’d imagined and he could barely pull his scattered thoughts into coherency.

“That’s right. That’s what I want,” Steve urged him on. “You feel so good, so good. That’s right. Fuck me. Oh god, Loki, fuck me.”

Loki groaned. “So that’s your dark secret. You talk like a porn star in bed.”

The look on Steve’s face was anything but innocent. “Come on. You can fuck me harder than that. Give me that cock. Come on.”

He grabbed onto Steve’s hips, but he felt like he couldn’t catch his breath or keep any sort of rhythm. He fell back, watching Steve ride him and trying to hold onto the last threads of his self-control. He’d never let anyone drive him over the edge, never let anyone be in control even in sex, and now he was utterly helpless. Hazily, he realized Steve was - _impossibly_ \- hard again, his cock tapping against Loki’s stomach. He fumbled for the bottle of lubricant, not paying attention as he poured it out onto his hand. Grabbing for Steve’s cock, he didn’t bother to tease, just tightened his grip and matched his strokes to Steve’s rhythm. Steve gasped, his eyes squeezing shut.

Loki arched up just as Steve begin to tense, muscles tightening around him, and stars exploded across his vision. He shuddered with each heartbeat, felt every pulse. Steve came with a shout and it was his name - _Loki_ \- and somehow that felt more intimate than anything they’d just done. He caught Steve when he collapsed, breathing hard and fast.

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed against his shoulder.

Laughter bubbled up in Loki’s throat and he couldn’t stop it from spilling out. “You have a filthy mouth, Rogers.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve murmured.

Loki laughed harder. Maybe he could take a chance. Maybe he could hold onto this perfectly normal life with Steve and maybe he’d be lucky enough to keep it.


	5. Chapter 5

An incoming call beeped in Loki’s ear. He glanced down at the phone near his feet and saw Steve’s name flash across the screen before activating the ear piece and accepting the call.

“Hey,” he said quietly. It was barely dawn in northern Michigan and his breath was frost on the still morning air. 

“How’s the trip?”

“How do you think it’s going?” Loki reached for the binoculars around his neck, scanning the open field not far off from where he was. He was freezing his ass off in a tree stand. He hated tree stands; he hated being cold; he hated being so far away from Steve.

“Well, there’s a nice warm bed waiting for you at home.” He could hear Steve’s smile in his voice.

 _Home_. He smiled at the thought. “Did you need something?” He hated to rush but he was expecting his target before the sun reached the tree tops.

“Thought I’d start ripping up the front porch. Weather report shows a break in the rain and might be awhile before we get another one. Didn’t know if you’d be coming home in the dark or not, just make sure you use the kitchen door instead.” Steve’s voice rose and fell as he moved around, probably trying to get dressed at the same time.

“Duly noted.” 

“Any chance you’ll be home early?”

“Not if I stay on the phone.” He heard Steve laugh.

“Alright then. Keep warm and come home as soon as you can.”

“I will.” Loki disconnected the call. He tugged the earpiece out and put in earplugs.

He shifted uncomfortably on the tiny seat, adjusting the placement of the rifle on his knees. These jobs were the worst. He hated trekking through back woods when he could’ve just shot the target in his living room, but that would inevitably lead to a police investigation and Odin frowned on those. Unfortunate hunting accidents were a great deal more work to stage. He’d treated his clothing and scrubbed every inch of his body with the same soaps and scent blockers hunters used to remain undetected from animals with much keener senses of smell, then trekked out into the forest to the spot it had taken him a month to find. Now he had to wait. It was tedious and obnoxious, but that was why Odin paid him the big bucks. He tucked his hands under his arms, trying to keep his fingers from stiffening up in the cold. Minutes crawled by and the sun inched up over the horizon. He watched the shadows retreat across the field and finally heard the distant bark of a dog. 

John Garrett hadn’t missed the first day of pheasant season in the past five years. He hunted primarily with German shorthaired pointers as bird dogs and this year’s dog was named Bruno. Garrett favored a 12-gauge shotgun with Tungsten-polymer shot, was an excellent shot and, by all accounts, one tough bastard. Loki definitely preferred his odds at a distance.

Birds scattered at the far end of the field, too small and too plentiful to be pheasants. He traded his binoculars for the sight of his rifle, settling it into the v-stand to help him hold position for as long as took. Peering down the barrel of the gun, he tracked the movement of startled birds and tall grass, turned brittle and brown with fall. Finally, a blaze of bright orange came into his view, enough for him to recognize the figure as a man. He waited, breath frosting against the gun, until he got a clear view of the man’s face and knew without a doubt it was Garrett.

The gun kicked when he fired. It wasn’t bad, he thought absently, he’d expected more recoil. He kept the gun trained on the field, but Garrett was down and wouldn’t be getting back up. The dog raced around its master, though Loki couldn’t see more than the sway of tall grass. Quickly, he broke down the rifle and stowed his gear in the backpack.

A thin, melancholy howl cut through the air. He hated jobs with dogs. 

It took only minutes for him to erase any trace he’d been in the tree stand; it had been there long before he found it and he needed it to look unused. Although he knew smaller communities rarely had the resources or manpower to do full scale forensics on every suspicious death, he preferred to be safe rather than sorry. He made his way through the woods purposefully, choosing his route by what would be the most difficult to track. When he reached the dry creek bed leading to the nearest access road, he heard the dull thrum of a helicopter. He paused to listen, wondering. He knew the shot had gone clear through Garrett's head - he never missed - and the odds of survival were negligible, but Odin also paid him to be paranoid.

A five mile hike brought him back to where he’d left the rental car and he was sweating by the time he got there, even with the cold. He stowed his gear in the trunk, swapped his jacket and boots, and pulled the car out of the narrow ravine back to the county road. There hadn’t been any other traffic on the road when he’d driven out at four in the morning and he only saw two old, battered Ford trucks on the way back to the motel where he was staying. It was a half day’s drive and he was irritable, hungry, and going through caffeine withdrawal by the time he reached the small town.

There was a cafe across the street from the motel. He grabbed the old ball cap from the passenger seat and put it on as he headed over. The waitress waved him toward the bar. Other than his long hair, he blended into the midday crowd of truckers and farmers, all generally dressed in the same layers of wool and flannel, with heavy work boots tracking in dirt clods and bits of dead leaves. He ordered black coffee and the special; a perfectly anonymous order. There was an old color television at the far end of the counter; he kept one eye on it as he waited for his meal. His phone vibrated in the pocket of his cargo pants, but he ignored it.

The coffee was surprisingly strong and the food - artery clogging and all - was delicious. He forced himself to eat as though he had nowhere else in the world to be and kept half an ear tuned to the tinny sounding news broadcasts coming from the television. 

Once he’d drunk his fill of coffee, he headed back to the motel to shower, change, and check out. This rental car would be swapped out for another on the drive home, and then another, before he returned to the long term parking lot where the Jag was waiting. He whistled as he drove, his mind on his destination and wondering about Steve’s plan for the porch. They’d talked about getting a hanging swing, the old-fashioned kind meant for two people to sit together.

It was twilight by the time he turned over the last set of keys and fished his own out of his luggage. Remembering the buzz of his phone, he finally pulled it out to check his messages. He had a voice message from Thor asking him to stop by when he returned, which soured his good mood considerably. He considered ignoring it, but he needed to check in with Odin and let him know the job was done. He also preferred to store his weapons at Odin’s rather than risk Steve discovering them. A hand gun, even of few of them, he might be able to explain away as a hobby, but an entire arsenal was much trickier.

With a heavy sigh, he turned toward Odin’s rather than taking the exit that would lead him to Steve. As he drove, he thought about Steve’s persistent urging to look for a new job. It was a possibility, however theoretical it seemed, and he’d promised to think about it. For all his promises were ever worth.

Thor was sitting on the steps leading up to the front door. That couldn’t be good.

He shut off the Jag and went around to the trunk first, pulling out his bags. Thor was still there, waiting patiently, when he approached. “You couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning? I was up at 4 am.”

“Father is in a rare mood,” Thor said dryly, not answering the question.

Loki rolled his eyes. “So what’s new?”

“He tells me you no longer live here.” Thor stood up, brushing dust from his hands. "And he told me about your boyfriend."

“None of which is anyone’s business but my own.” Loki shoved his shoulder against the front door to open it and stalked across the marble foyer. He hated this place. It was too large, too cold, ornate verging on gaudy, and he would like nothing more than to take a flamethrower to it.

Thor followed after him. “Steve is my friend. You should’ve told me.” 

“It’s not a big deal.”

Thor caught his arm. “Father is old-fashioned. He thinks you’re doing this as a stunt to make him look bad.”

“By revealing him to be the homophobic asshole that he is?”

“Loki,” Thor said, almost pleading. “You know his temper as well as I do.”

Jerking his arm away, Loki stormed off. He’d known it was only a matter of time before Odin started digging. It wasn’t as though there would be anything to find; Steve Rogers was a boy scout and had been openly bisexual for nearly a decade. Odin could dig all he wanted; he’d never find anything. In the reverse, all anyone had to do was look at Loki and they’d find mountains of dirt. That’s how he liked it. He’d rather send everyone off on stories about drug abuse and drunken orgies; it kept their appetite for sensationalism well-fed and protected his real secrets at the same time. Not that there was anything wrong with a good drunken orgy every now and then. It was a win-win as far as he was concerned.

He unpacked his gear first, then filled out the expense report Odin demanded. All lies, of course, but neatly packaged, verifiable lies that could be handed to the Internal Revenue Service if they ever came knocking. The house was eerily quiet as he made his way to Odin’s study. Frigga had always said no house was complete without music and the laughter of children. Briefly, he wondered how she’d been able to set aside her work and come home to her family. Then again, maybe that’s why she’d never allowed them to have a dog. 

Hearing voices ahead, he slowed. Although he couldn’t make out the words, he recognized Thor’s voice, resonating through the walls, and Odin's. They were arguing.

“…it’s not right,” Thor was saying, clearly angry, when Loki pushed open the study door. He glanced back and went quiet, his lips drawing into a thin line.

“My report.” Loki held up the folder. He tossed it onto Odin’s desk once he was close enough.

“How did it go?” Odin sat carefully still, his hands folded in his lap.

“According to plan.” Loki knew better than to interpret Odin’s calm as his good nature. Odin was never more dangerous than when he was serenely composed. He thought momentarily about the mournful howl of the dog as it lay with its master while he died.

“There is a matter I wish to speak with you about.”

“Father,” Thor began, a note of warning in his voice.

Loki pretended to examine his fingernails. “And what would that be?”

“Your choice of lovers.”

“Which one?”

The line of Odin’s jaw hardened. “Do not play with me, boy. Do you take me for a fool?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Thor moved to Loki’s side, his hand resting heavily on his shoulder. “Loki, please.”

“You have always been wild, Loki.” Odin leaned back into his chair. “The whores were one thing. The parties, the drugs. But this is something different and I will not allow it to continue. It is too dangerous.”

“It’s _perfect_ ,” Loki scoffed. “Eventually someone’s going to start piecing it together. The business trips, the disappearances, the carefully manufactured itineraries and stories. What better explanation could you ask for? A son living his life in the closet, hiding his gay lovers from you and from the world. It’s the best cover I’ve ever come up with and you know it.” He folded his arms across his chest and met Odin’s gaze with a fierce glare.

It was Thor who broke the silence. “Is that all Steve is to you? A cover? He is a good man.”

“He’s not a child, Thor,” Loki snapped angrily. He felt nauseous.

“And if he has feelings for you?”

“That’s not my problem,” Loki seethed, his voice strained. 

“Are you even,” Thor stopped, gesturing non-sensibly at Loki. “Are you even gay?”

“Oh please. I know all about what went on in the locker room after your Lacrosse matches.” He watched Thor’s face contort with shock and then rage, but his mouth was going and he couldn’t stop himself. “Tell me, Thor, are you gay? Or were you just having a little fun with a good friend? We both know Fandral will fuck anything with a heartbeat-”

Thor’s fist crunched against his face and he saw stars on the way down to the floor. Thor came after him, grabbing the front of his shirt so roughly the seams tore.

“ENOUGH,” Odin bellowed, rising up onto his feet.

Thor froze, arm still back and ready to hit Loki again. After a moment, he gave Loki a disgusted look and shoved him away. “If you drag Steve into your worthless excuse for a life, you’ll answer to me.”

“Get bent.” Loki winced, feeling out the inevitable bruise he’d have in the morning.

“Leave us, Thor,” Odin commanded. “Now.”

Loki held his jaw as he got back to his feet. He didn’t watch Thor leave and didn’t meet Odin’s gaze.

“You must end this affair.”

“You think you can scare me, old man?” Loki spat. “What are you going to do to me? Kill me? I know you won’t. Because you can’t replace me. You’ll never find anyone as good as I am and you know it. I do what I want and I’ll fuck _who_ I want. Deal with it.”

“I have known you all your life.” Odin’s tone was almost kind. “I watched you grow, watched you take your first steps. I know you better than you know yourself, Loki. Love is not something you can afford. It makes you vulnerable, puts you at risk. It puts those you love at risk.”

He swallowed. “Is that a threat?”

“A warning.”

Turning away, Loki headed for the door. He wanted to get away from this place, away from Odin and everything that made his skin crawl. He wanted to get back to Steve and their normal life.

“He will not love you,” Odin called after him, his voice deceptively soft. “Not once he discovers what you really are. How could he?”

Loki’s blood ran cold. He hurried away, heart racing. The front door slammed behind him and the tires of the Jag squealed, spitting gravel and dirt as they spun out. He tried to remind himself to slow down but every second felt like it was slipping away from him. The light was on above the kitchen door when he pulled into the drive. He bolted from the car, barely stopping to yank the keys from the ignition.

“Steve?” he yelled as the door swung shut behind him.

“Bedroom,” came a muffled answer.

His hands shook, hurrying down the hallway. He didn’t think about it, just headed for the bedroom. Steve was in bed, a book on his lap. He grinned when he saw Loki. “Hey.” 

Loki froze the instant before he confessed everything.

“How was your trip?” Steve looked puzzled. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I just.” He forced himself to smile. “I just missed you. That’s all.” He moved to his side of the bed and sat down. “Nothing a hot shower and a beer can’t fix.”

“Why don’t you go shower? I’ll grab you a beer. Are you hungry?” 

“I ate on the way home.” That was a lie, but his stomach was churning and the thought of food made him queasy. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

He was going to ask about the porch, but something else entirely came out of his mouth. “Thor knows. He…he knows we’re together. So does Odin. They ambushed me when I stopped by Odin’s house.”

Steve moved across the bed to kneel behind Loki, wrapping his arms around him. “Are they okay with it?”

“Not exactly,” he said, trying to keep his tone light.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He leaned into Steve, feeling the panic that had overwhelmed him finally begin to ease. He trusted Odin about as much as he trusted a rattlesnake, but he could deal with that tomorrow. “It’ll be fine, once they’ve had time to get used to it.”

Steve tightened his embrace. “Even if it’s you and me against the world, I still don’t want anything else.” He pressed a kiss against Loki’s hair before shifting to slide off the bed. He stopped, frowning. “What happened to your face?” Calloused fingers were gentle against bruised skin.

“Thor.” 

“He hit you?”

“You should’ve seen us as teenagers. Mother thought she needed extra insurance just for the damage we did beating the crap out of each other.” He caught Steve’s hand and kissed his palm gently. 

“He shouldn’t have hit you.”

“He has Odin’s temper. You said something about a beer?” He could see Steve wasn’t ready to drop the conversation, but he settled for a kiss before he padded out of the bedroom.

Loki stripped out of his clothes and headed to shower. Sitting in a tree stand and then sitting in a car for most of the last eighteen hours had been hell on his back; he didn’t realize how exhausted he was until he was standing under the hot water and his knees almost gave out. He stayed in the shower until he felt in control of himself, already planning his apology when he told Steve he’d changed his mind about food and was actually starving. 

There was a beer on the bookshelf nearest to his side of the bed, carefully placed on a coaster. He pulled on a pair of sweat pants and one of Steve’s tank tops; it smelled like Steve and he wanted to bury himself in it. Grabbing the beer, he headed for the kitchen. He could hear Steve talking, his voice low, and saw him at the bar with his phone against one ear; he motioned to the microwave. When Loki opened the microwave, he found a plate of leftovers still steaming from being reheated. He grabbed the plate and a fork and moved around the other side of the bar.

“Thought you might be hungry,” Steve said, holding his hand over his phone for a moment.

Loki set the plate down and leaned in to kiss Steve firmly on the lips. “I love you,” he whispered before he took a seat and started eating. Steve froze in place, a shocked expression on his face. He hadn’t actually expected it to be that big of a deal.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. It’s no problem, you’ve got the address, just come over when you get into town. My couch is always open, man.” Steve ended the call and sat down at the bar. “That was Bucky. He’s coming through town in a day or two, family stuff. Needs a place to crash. I told him he could take the couch. If that’s alright with you?”

Loki arched a brow. “Are you worried I won’t like him or worried that I’ll like him too much?” When Steve looked confused, he winked.

Chagrined, Steve shook his head. “You can’t just throw the L word around like that, you know. That is not fair.”

“You were planning on saying it first?”

“You’re damn right I was. With flowers and a bottle of wine, not leftover casserole and a beer. I was gonna do it right.” Steve stood up to move around to Loki’s back, massaging his neck and shoulders. “You always come back from work trips tense. Have you thought any more about finding something else?”

The bite of casserole felt like it stuck in his throat. He washed it down with beer before answering. “I thought I might go back to school actually. Maybe get a Masters degree. A lot of programs have night and weekend classes now. Business maybe.”

“That’s great!” He wrapped his arms around Loki’s waist, letting his chin rest on Loki’s shoulder. “And I love you, too.”

Loki smiled. “Good. Otherwise living together might get awkward.” His smile faded. “If Odin and Thor know, it’s probably not too long before something shows up in the gossip columns.” He reached for Steve’s hand and held on as he continued to eat, changing the subject because he didn’t want to think about what might happen. “How’s the porch?”

“Demo is pretty much done and there’s a pile of lumber in the yard. Shouldn’t take more than two or three weekends.”

“Termites?” That had been Steve’s fear when he’d started talking about working on the porch.

“Just wood rot. Looks like the water collects on the right side when it rains so I’ll need to improve the drainage.” 

“We’ll work on it tomorrow.” Loki finished off the food and the beer. He rinsed the plate before adding it to the dishwasher and washed the beer bottle out before dropping it into the recycling bin. When he turned around, he saw Steve watching him with an odd expression on his face. “What?”

Steve shook his head a little, smiling. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“Born under a favorable star, I suppose.” He felt hollow. Brushing it off as exhaustion, he moved to take Steve’s hand. “Let’s go to bed. And if you wake me up before ten o’clock tomorrow morning, do so at your own peril.”

Once they were settled in bed, he pressed against Steve’s side and lay awake, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Steve’s fingers combed lazily through his hair; it was something Loki found soothing and Steve tended to do it without even thinking about it. There were so many little things Steve did that all added up into something Loki didn’t want to lose.

“Loki,” Steve whispered. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mmm.”

“You don’t have to answer.”

He closed his eyes, sinking into the warmth of Steve’s embrace. “What is it?” 

“Did your dad ever hit you?”

“Why do you ask?”

Steve’s hand fell to his shoulder, his thumb making soft strokes over his skin. “You said Thor had his temper. I’m just trying to figure you out.”

“I’m not that complicated.”

“Sometimes I feel like I only see bits and pieces of you and there’s so much more I haven’t seen yet.” His hand stilled. “I want you to be happy.”

“I am.” As he said it, Loki realized it was true.

Steve waited a long moment. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“No, I didn’t.” Loki rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. “Hitting me would have required touching me and Odin wouldn’t lower himself that far.” Steve didn’t say anything in response, just waited silently for him to continue. “He isn’t my biological father.”

"Does that…are you adopted?”

“Odin found me in a dumpster, tossed out with the garbage. It was Frigga who insisted on keeping me. Like I was some sort of stray dog you put a collar on and house train. I should be grateful, shouldn't I?”

Steve pulled him close. “You are amazing.” He pressed fervent kisses against Loki’s hair and face, as though he could make it true with the sheer force of his conviction.

Loki closed his eyes and pretended it could last forever.

**

The sun was only beginning to take the fall chill out of the air by mid-morning. Despite the cold, Steve got an early start, leaving Loki sleeping soundly. Hard manual labor usually dulled his thoughts and worries to a low roar, but even though he was sweating from the exertion of breaking up the packed dirt beneath the porch, he couldn’t shake the anxiety.

It wasn’t unusual for his thoughts to be preoccupied with Loki, but he didn’t usually worry. He accepted that Loki’s work trips were irregular, with no real schedule to them, although Loki usually gave him a day or two advance notice. Each time, Loki came home tired and wound tight as a violin string ready to snap, and each time he insisted the trip was merely boring paperwork that wasn’t worth talking about. Sometimes he came home with odd injuries, though none as bad as the time he’d been hit by a car. Steve had looked up Odin’s company, Asgard Industries, and searched for anything that might shed light on exactly what Loki did. Most of the information he found was unhelpfully vague, barely more than carefully crafted marketing materials. It seemed to him that Asgard Industries only catered to customers who already knew what services it offered and didn’t need to ask.

Last night, there had been an unusual urgency in Loki. He’d seemed frantic, as though afraid Steve wouldn’t be there, and there’d been a moment, standing in the bedroom door, where he’d looked on the verge of saying something and then thought better of it. The bruise on his face, put there by Thor, wasn’t reassuring in the slightest. Neither did Loki’s admission of love; Steve had always assumed he would never hear Loki say those words and he’d have to look for more subtle signs of any emotional attachment. He was glad to hear it, happy to hear it, but it had come with the same air of recklessness that never seemed far away when Loki was involved. Maybe loving someone _was_ reckless for Loki and Steve didn’t know how to make sense of it. 

The deep rumble of a diesel engine pulled him from his thoughts. When he looked up, he saw Thor’s enormous truck come to a stop on the street in front of the house. He stopped working, planting his shovel and leaning on the handle as he waited. Thor came around the front of the truck and started down the walk, his gaze on Loki’s black Jaguar parked in the narrow drive behind Steve’s motorcycle.

“Steve,” Thor said. His big hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets.

“Thor.” 

Thor squinted at the house, looking it over. He seemed confused and his brow furrowed. “Loki lives with you?”

“He moved in a few months ago.”

Thor seemed to think about that for a moment. “Is he happy here?” The question sounded sincere, but as though Thor couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the idea that Loki had chosen to live there. 

“He is. We are.” He stressed the _we_ a little bit harder than he’d intended.

“What are you working on?” Thor motioned to the patch of dirt.

“Replacing the porch.”

“Can I help?” Thor jerked a thumb toward his truck. “I keep work gloves in the toolbox.”

Once again, Steve was surprised. “Sure. If you want to take the pick ax, go for it.” Thor seemed eager to help and Steve was already beginning to ache from the back breaking work. He turned back to his shovel, cutting the loosened earth and scooping it away. When Thor returned, he pointed out the boundaries of the porch. “The drainage is poor beneath the porch so I’m digging it out and fixing the angle before I put the new porch in. The ground’s pretty solid through here. If you can loosen it up first, it’ll be a lot easier.”

Thor nodded. He pulled on a pair of heavy work gloves and set to hacking at the tough ground. They worked in silence for a long time, the only sounds being the crunch of the pick ax and the lesser thud of the shovel against the earth.

“When did you and Loki start seeing each other,” Thor asked out of nowhere, his focus still on the dirt.

“He showed up to help me move. Things sort of went from there.” Steve paused to rest. “Did you punch him because of me?”

Thor went still, then stood up and gently let the pick ax lean against the side of the house. “No. That wasn’t why.” He wasn’t looking at Steve. Picking at the dirt on his gloves, he moved to the nearby pile of lumber and took a seat. “I’ve always envied you, you know.”

“Me?” 

“You’ve always known exactly who you are and you never apologize for it.” Thor smiled a little, finally looking up. “I wish I had your courage.”

“I’m really not following.”

“You’ve loved men and women and you’ve never hidden it.” Thor looked down again. “I’ve never been able to live as openly as you do. Never felt that I could.”

“Thor,” Steve hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“Loki always knew. I never hid anything from him.” Taking a deep breath, Thor rubbed a hand over his face. “We argued last night and he told my father that not all my lovers have been women. I didn’t know how to react. My father is not open minded and I suppose I panicked. But I shouldn't have struck him for speaking the truth.”

Bits and pieces clicked together, the odd guilt in Loki’s voice when he’d spoken of the fight and Thor’s easy acceptance of Steve’s bisexuality despite his contrary upbringing. Loki had outed Thor to their father when Thor was clearly conflicted and uncomfortable being open about his sexuality even with his friends. Steve could empathize with how that had felt for Thor and why Loki had attacked him that way when confronted with his own relationship with Steve. And if the press attention really was as bad as Loki said it could be, it was no wonder Thor hadn't chosen to live openly.

“My brother can be difficult to love.”

“Difficult to love? No.” Steve moved to the pile of lumber and took a seat next to Thor. “He’s easy to love. He’s funny and brilliant and beautiful. He’s so easy to love it’s terrifying. But holding onto him? That’s a different story. He’s like holding onto a tornado. You don’t know if he’s going to rip you apart or carry you off to an amazing adventure in the Land of Oz. And maybe no one is meant to hold onto him for long. All I did was make him an offer. A normal life with me in this little house, for as long as he wanted it.”

Thor was watching him carefully. “I suppose his work makes his life anything but normal.”

“It does. But he’s thinking about getting out. We’ve talked about it.”

“You have?” Thor seemed surprised.

“Yeah. He mentioned going back to school. Maybe a graduate degree.”

“He intends to stop working for our Father?”

“Too much violence.” He’d meant it as a joke, maybe even a subtle jab a Thor, but it didn’t seem Thor got the punchline. “He comes home and it’s days before I can get him to relax again. It’s going to kill him eventually, if he doesn’t get out.”

“I didn’t realize that he,” Thor hesitated. “I didn’t realize he spoke to you about his work.”

“He doesn’t tell me details or anything like that. And I get that he can’t, that’s fine.” He hoped Thor wouldn’t go back to Odin thinking Loki was spilling corporate secrets. “And he told me he’s adopted.”

Thor dropped his head again, staring at the ground. “Neither of us knew, growing up. I think that’s why he went to Europe. He couldn’t bear to be around any of us after he discovered the truth. Not until Mother grew ill. She was all that convinced him to come home again. Still, he might have been happier if he’d stayed away from us. I fear our family is complicated.”

“That’s an understatement.” Steve smiled. “Why don’t you come in? I’ll make coffee.”

Thor almost beamed. “I would like that.”

When Steve opened the door, he could smell fresh coffee and realized Loki must be awake. He almost turned around and pushed Thor out the door. Trying not to seem as though he was rushing, he waved Thor into the living room and headed for the kitchen. “There’s not much to see as far as a tour goes. It’s pretty small.” 

“It’s comfortable,” Thor said absently, looking over the space as though searching for evidence that Loki lived there.

Steve pulled two mugs down from the cupboard. He filled Thor’s first and held it out over the bar, pointing to the creamer and sugar at the end. Thor accepted the mug before moving to the wall to look over the photographs Steve had put up. There were a few pictures of him and Loki at one of their favorite restaurants. He sipped at his coffee as he watched Thor move around the living room and wondered if he could slip away and warn Loki that Thor was here. A surprise visit from his brother probably wasn’t what Loki wanted. He noticed the door leading to the unfinished basement was ajar and wondered why Loki had gone down there.

“We were close once,” Thor mused, touching one of the photographs gently. He crouched down to read the titles of the books on one of the lower shelves. “As children, we were inseparable.” 

A quiet creak from the top step of the basement stairs gave Steve a moment’s warning. He turned around to see Loki closing the basement door; he was dressed only in a loose pair of jeans and smiled when he saw Steve. 

“The sweaty construction worker look suits you,” Loki said mischievously. “Very sexy. I like it.”

“Loki.” Before Steve could say anything else, Loki had closed the distance between them and was pressing his lips against Steve’s. Long, slender fingers tugged at the waist band of his jeans. He had to put his coffee mug down on the counter blindly, catching Loki’s wrists as his hand slipped down his jeans. Pulling back, he nodded toward the living room. The instant Loki saw Thor, he recoiled, jumping back from Steve so quickly he might have actually teleported.

“What are you doing here?” Loki demanded icily.

Thor had a strange expression on his face. “I was in the neighborhood.” 

“Unlikely. Did Odin send you?”

“No. I came to see how you were. And to apologize.” Thor gestured toward his own cheek, mirroring the dark bruise on Loki’s face.

“Then you wasted your time.”

Steve let his hand rest lightly on the small of Loki’s back, hoping to defuse the tension. “He was helping me with the porch. We’re almost done digging out the old dirt. I’ve got a load of gravel coming tomorrow afternoon.” He rubbed his thumb lightly against Loki’s back, trying to ground him both with the touch and with quiet, _normal_ words about a porch that needed to be replaced. Loki craved normalcy the way most people wanted excitement and Steve wasn’t above using it to anchor him against the flare of his own temper. 

“I do not wish to impose,” Thor said.

Loki’s nostrils flared as he inhaled. “Lifting heavy things is a particular talent of yours. If you’re going to be here, you may as well make yourself useful.” He turned abruptly and left the kitchen, disappearing down the hallway to the bedroom. Uncertain, Thor immediately looked to Steve for guidance.

Raising his hands, Steve shook his head. “He’s your brother. Let me grab some water bottles and we’ll get back out there. If you don’t have anywhere to be.” An extra pair of hands would save him some sore muscles later, although he had a sneaking suspicion Loki would make him pay for this in some subtle way.

By afternoon, he and Thor finished digging and the ground was ready for the gravel to arrive. Steve was satisfied with the new slope away from the house and the post holes for the support beams. He planned to expand the width and wrap it around one corner of the house, joining the steps to the kitchen door with the porch. He’d need a contractor to come in and extend the roof at some point, but that could wait until he could afford it. Loki insisted on paying half of everything, which was the only reason he’d been able to tackle the porch so soon after buying. 

He waved goodbye as Thor’s truck pulled away and then headed back into the house. It was quiet and the basement door was open again. Curious, but not wanting to pry, he headed straight for the bathroom to get cleaned up. He showered hurriedly, on edge and wondering if Loki was angry with him for allowing Thor to stay, and barely took time to dry off before he scrambled for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Sitting on the end of the bed, he was half dressed when he glanced up and saw Loki leaning against the door frame, his hands in his back pockets.

“Hey.” Steve yanked the t-shirt down over his head. “Are you hungry? I was thinking we could go out for lunch. Try one of the restaurants down on the water.” Loki left the doorway, his lean frame giving him the look of a panther stalking its prey. He caught Steve’s shoulders, straddling him and sinking down onto his lap, then nuzzling against his throat. “We can go later. If you want.”

“Later,” Loki repeatedly softly. He kept his touches light, just brushing against Steve’s skin. “I’d like a project of my own. In the basement.”

“Oh?” He didn’t resist when Loki pushed him down against the bed. His hands fell to Loki’s hips and he held on. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’d like to put in a wine cellar.”

“A what?” 

“A wine cellar.” 

“Don’t you think that’s a little?” The words caught in his throat when Loki shimmied down his body, one hand slipping between his legs while the other unfastened his zipper. Although Loki was receptive in the bedroom, he’d never been sexually aggressive before and Steve had no idea what was driving his behavior now. “A wine cellar is a little out of my budget.”

“Indulge me. Consider it a gift.” Loki grabbed hold of his jeans and stripped them away, making him wonder why he’d bothered to get dressed at all.

Steve propped himself up on one elbow. Loki moved to kneel at the end of the bed, hands running up Steve’s thighs with the same light touch. His thumbs dragged against sensitive skin, teasing and pulling away an instant before he reached Steve’s penis. “Did you think you’d need to seduce me to get me to say yes?”

“Seduce you,” Loki said with a sly smile. “Is that what I’m doing?”

“Uh-huh.” There was something predatory in the way he was looking at Steve; an _intent_ that was a little unsettling. “Loki. It’s not that I don’t.” He inhaled sharply when Loki, green eyes watching him, licked a slow stripe up the underside of his penis and sucked him gently into his mouth. His hips bucked up, blood racing to his groin. He reached out to dig his fingers into Loki’s hair. “Not complaining, just wondering what the occasion is.”

One eyebrow arched up. His cock slipped from Loki’s mouth with a soft, wet pop. “Do I need an occasion?”

“No, of course not. It’s not…you don’t usually initiate. Like this. It’s unexpected. Good, it’s good. Just unexpected.” He couldn’t quite relax, couldn’t stop wondering what was really going on in Loki’s head. His mouth went a little dry when Loki stood up and slowly undid the button and zipper of his own jeans.

“And you’re not usually so tongue-tied.” Loki smirked. He shucked off his jeans and moved to straddle Steve again. “My eyes are up here.”

Steve realized he’d been staring and jerked his gaze upward, chuckling under his breath. “You know what? You can put whatever you want in the basement. If a swimming pool will make you happy, I’ll rent a jackhammer tomorrow.” He pushed up and wrapped his arms around Loki’s waist, twisting to the side to toss Loki onto his back on the bed. He leaned in to kiss a line across Loki’s stomach. “How about we stay in bed for the rest of the afternoon? I’ll order a pizza. There’s beer in the fridge.”

“Sounds lovely.” Loki’s eyes were closed. He shuddered when Steve let his fingers trail along the inside of one thigh.

“You’re not mad about Thor being here?” Gently, Steve kissed his way lower.

Loki laughed aloud. “Is that what you’re worried about?” He pulled Steve up into a heated kiss. Steve savored it; as though he could kiss Loki forever, perfectly content to let the rest of the world go merrily on without them. When Loki pulled away, his lips a shade darker and swollen, the predatory look in his eyes had faded. “You’re mine. I’m not giving you up. Not for anyone or anything.”

Steve thought it was strange thing to say but he wasn’t going to argue. Even the niggling doubt that he needed to be wary of Loki’s volatility couldn’t put a damper on his hope for their future together, so he pushed the twinge of uneasiness into the back of his mind. Instead, he smiled down at Loki and smoothed his hair away from his face. “That’s right. I’m yours.”


	6. Chapter 6

Meeting at the dimly lit bar was Bucky’s idea. It had been one of their favorite hangout spots before Bucky’s work sent him racing all over the globe. When Steve stepped through the door, he felt as though he’d stepped through time. Every detail was exactly as he remembered it; a blast from the past in more ways than one. The bar was themed to resemble the early 40’s, with period furniture, black and white photographs on the walls, even a few old newspapers with headlines about World War II framed up; Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra was playing over the speakers.

“This is where you used to spend your time?” Loki gave the place a careful once over, not quite smirking. Out of everything, it was Loki who seemed the most incongruous, but Steve wondered more often than not if Loki was half human and half mystical creature from another world.

“Back in college, yeah. Me and Bucky. Whole bunch of us used to hang out here all the time.” Steve caught the attention of the hostess and told her they were expecting a third.

“He’s already here.” She smiled and waved for them to follow before heading down the walk between booths with high wooden backs. There was a table in the corner. Bucky was already seated in the corner chair, his back to the wall. He stood up when he saw Steve.

“Hey, man! Long time no see.” Bucky came around the side of the table to give Steve a hug and hold out his right hand to Loki. “It’s Loki, right?”

“Yes.” Loki shook his hand, but his smile was a little pinched.

“Unusual name.”

“No moreso than Bucky.”

“Aw, Bucky’s just a nickname.” He moved back to his chair and sat down, his right arm draped over the next chair. “My parents saddled me with the unfortunate middle name of Buchanan. Let me tell you, if I’d had a say, I would’ve picked a much cooler President. Kennedy, I could’ve been down with that. Lincoln, even.”

Loki settled smoothly into the chair adjacent to Steve. “Why not go by James?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed for a split second, then he grinned and gave a shrug. “You know how nicknames are. Once you’ve got one, they tend to stick. Take on a life of their own. Besides, wouldn’t want to hurt Stevie’s feelings, would I? He’s the one who started it. Isn’t that right, Stevie?”

“We were kids and I couldn’t say anything with J. You gonna hold that against me all my life?” Steve shook his head, laughing. “How’ve you been? I get one postcard from you in the last six months and from…where was it? Somewhere in eastern Europe I’d never heard of.”

“What can I say? Company never sends me anywhere nice.” Bucky straightened up when the waitress approached to take their order. “First round’s on me. What’s your poison?”

Steve ordered an India Pale Ale while Loki ordered a scotch on the rocks - he was specific about his ice cubes; Steve thought it was adorable - and Bucky settled on a chocolate stout. Steve added one of the blooming onion appetizers to the order, already glancing over the menu on the table between him and Loki. He tried to remember they were in public and Loki tended to shy away from public displays of affection in public. The conversation flowed easily enough; Bucky always had stories to tell about the places his work took him.

“And you! You’ve got a house and a boyfriend to keep the bed warm.” Bucky pointed his beer at Steve. “You two thinking about settling down? Tying the knot? Raising a few rug rats?”

Steve froze. Glancing to the side, he searched Loki’s face for a reaction and saw nothing. That was even worse. His stomach sank.

“A dog, actually. We’re thinking of getting a dog,” Loki answered easily. “Steve mentioned you were passing though. Family business, wasn’t it?”

That seemed to sober Bucky up a little. “Death in the family. Headed to the funeral.” 

“Who died?” Loki's tone was deceptively light.

“An uncle. On my mom’s side. Hunting accident in upstate Michigan. These things happen.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. They do.”

“What kind of dog were you thinking of getting?” Bucky tipped his head to the side, fingers tapping against his beer.

“Well, we haven’t really-” Steve began.

“German shorthair,” Loki interrupted. There was something about his smile that made the hair on the back of Steve’s neck stand on end. “Although we may not have the yard space for such an energetic breed.” He leaned to the side and put an arm over the back of Steve’s chair, his hand resting lightly against Steve’s shoulder. It was the first time Loki had been openly affectionate, though this felt more like possessive, in public. 

Steve suddenly felt he was only witness to a conversation he knew nothing about, as though Loki and Bucky were speaking in code. He was relieved when their dinner orders arrived, though he noticed Loki and Bucky never quite took their attention off of each other. There was no open hostility, more a sense of two wolves circling each other as they determined whether or not to fight over their territory. Steve was confused and exhausted by the time they settled the check and left the restaurant. Loki barely spoke on the drive home and he kept glancing in the rear view mirror to see if Bucky was behind them in his rental car. 

The couch was already laid out with blankets and extra pillows for Bucky. Steve stayed in the kitchen while Loki retreated to the bedroom. He had two beers in hand and held one out to Bucky when he opened the front door. At Bucky’s look, he only shook his head and waved him in.

“I’m not even going to ask what the hell that was about, Buck. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“It wasn’t anything.” Bucky dropped his black duffel on the floor and took a seat on the couch. “You could’ve told me you’d shacked up with Loki Laufeyson, for Christ’s sake.”

Steve glanced down the hall. The bedroom door was closed. “I told you I was seeing someone.”

“You didn’t tell me you were fucking the Prince of Darkness.” Bucky looked over his shoulder, then shook his head and took a swig from his beer. “You’re in over your head this time, Rogers, and I can’t be here to bail you out.”

“I don’t need bailing out. Whatever you think you know about Loki.” He stopped when Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Steve. It was all over the papers. Only Daddy’s money kept him from serving time. The high speed car chase? The drugs? He dumped a goddamn Ferrari into the bay and thought it was hilarious. My God, Steve, how do you even know he’s not still neck deep in that shit?”

“He’s changed.”

Bucky snorted in disbelief. “You always want to believe the best in people, Steve, and I love that about you, but you’re wrong this time.”

“I know you’re just going to tell me he’s lying, but I believe him. He doesn’t lie to me.” Even as he said it, a part of him wondered about the strange business trips.

Bucky let his head fall back against the couch cushions. “You’ve got it bad.”

“Can’t you just be happy for me? Because things are going pretty good for me right now and Loki’s part of that. A big part of that. I don’t want to fight about this.” Steve sat down on the other end of the couch. “You’re my best friend, Bucky. We’ve known each other our whole lives.”

“And I’ll be happy for you.” Bucky raised his beer, a tired smile on his face. “Even if I think you’re being fucking stupid.”

“Well, you should come back more often and keep me out of trouble.”

“Damn, right.” Bucky grinned. “So, how long can I keep you up before your boyfriend comes looking for you?”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “What did you have in mind?”

“Just a little fun. For old times’ sake.” His grin widened. “When was the last time you went to the Warehouse?”

“Bucky.”

“Come on. I’ll have you home before dawn.”

“I’ve got work tomorrow.”

“That’s what coffee’s for, my friend.”

Steve sighed. “Let me check with Loki.”

“What, did he neuter you or something?”

Shaking his head, he left Bucky in the living room and headed down the hallway. When he opened the bedroom door, Loki was in bed with his tablet, dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail. “Hey. Would you mind if Bucky and I went out? It’d only be for a couple hours.”

“Where would you be going?” His tone was so perfectly neutral Steve knew it was deliberate.

“The Warehouse. Just to watch. That’s all.”

Loki glanced up. His expression was skeptical. “I may begin to think poorly of your friend if he prefers to spend his time at quasi-legal establishments known for cage fights and gambling.”

There wasn’t much Steve could say to that. He hadn’t been to the Warehouse in years, not since Bucky and the others were still in town and young enough to be stupid. That he’d actually gotten into the ring a few times wasn’t something he wanted to admit to Loki, not yet. It had paid for a few semesters of tuition but he’d never felt good about it. He’d moved on; he had a steady job and a house and a stable relationship. At least, he hoped it was stable.

With a sigh, Loki finally shrugged. “Come home in one piece and don’t bet the mortgage.”

Steve left the doorway and moved to the side of the bed, giving Loki a solid kiss. “I love you."

“And yet you’re choosing to leave me alone. In bed. All by myself. I’ll be ever so lonely. Whatever will I do?” Loki gave him a coy look.

“Hey,” Steve protested. He kissed Loki again, letting it linger. “I’ll try not to wake you up when I get back. Or I can wake you up, if you want, and you can fuck me senseless.”

“It’s a deal.”

“We’ll have to keep it down, you know…with Bucky.”

“Perhaps he’d be interested in joining us.”

Steve groaned, heading for the door. “Don’t wait up, okay? I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Enjoy,” Loki called after him, his tone wry and sarcastic.

They took Bucky’s rental. Steve drove because his alcohol tolerance had always been better than Bucky’s, a freak twist of genetics he wasn’t going to complain about. There were cars parked around the block and clusters of people outside the old industrial warehouse. Some were smoking, some were drinking, and a few of them were sporting black eyes and bandaged noses. The bass pulse of the music inside was audible when they got out of the car.

Bucky gave him a lopsided grin. “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

“I’d rather not think about it.”

Slinging his right arm around Steve’s shoulders, Bucky shook him slightly. “You were unbeatable, my friend. Remember that guy? The one with the red skull tattooed on his chest? Thought he was going to take you out that night but you just kept getting back up. That was something.” His tone turned wistful and far away. “That was something.”

“Buck?”

“Now you’ve got a normal life. White picket fence and all.”

“It’s chain link and half of it’s rusted.”

“You know what I mean.”

Steve dug into his jeans pocket for his wallet as they approached the front door, fishing out enough cash for the cover. “Getting tired of the life of adventure?”

“You have no idea.” Bucky’s attention was already on the crowd of people milling about the ring in the center of the warehouse. “I’m going to rustle us up a couple of beers. You go on, grab some seats.”

“Bucky.”

“I’ll catch up.” He was already walking away and the crowd swallowed him up in moments.

Hands in his jacket pockets, Steve picked his way closer to the front and looked for open space on the wooden benches laid out around the ring. It was empty for the moment; a pair of men were wiping away blood and sweat from the mat and getting it ready for the next round. He tried to make out the scrawled names on the board but the choppy handwriting was mostly illegible, unless someone really was named Batroc. Maybe it was a stage name, like the Luchadors.

He felt a strange nostalgia for the excitement buzzing on the smoky air; the cheering and shouting, a dull roar of conversation. It was an experience he associated with endless and often beer soaked nights with friends. After he’d met Peggy, it hadn’t held as much appeal, but he’d had some good times here. Still, as he found a spot and took a seat, his thoughts wandered back to Loki. He wondered if it was the violence or the gambling that Loki didn’t approve of, though neither were exactly unfamiliar to Loki. Perhaps that was why; maybe it was the reminder of his own past that Loki disliked. He still wasn’t sure what had happened to turn Loki around, not that he was going to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he figured everyone had to hit rock bottom before they could make a real change. Maybe one day Loki would tell him the whole story of why he’d turned away from his hard partying lifestyle. A nudge against his shoulder alerted him to Bucky’s arrival. He took the offered plastic cup of cheap beer.

“What were you daydreaming about,” Bucky asked as he took a seat beside Steve.

“Just remembering. I didn’t think it was possible but I think this place has actually gotten dirtier.”

“I know, right? It’s great.”

“You’re a sick man, Barnes.” He tried to find the most comfortable position on the bench that still allowed him a good view of the ring. 

“Hey, you keep in touch with Romanov?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“She still with Barton?”

“Bucky,” Steve warned. He’d always wondered about Bucky and Natasha, but since things tended to mysteriously catch on fire whenever the two of them were in the same room, he’d always felt the planet Earth was better off if they never got together.

Bucky batted his eyelashes, trying to look innocent. “No harm in asking, is there? Thought I might look her up while I was in town, that’s all.”

“Right.” Of course, Bucky only gave him the same old, lopsided, devilish grin that usually heralded trouble. He drank more of his beer and made a mental note to pretend to lose Natasha’s number. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Bucky would treat Natasha right, Bucky was more gentleman than he pretended to be, and he didn’t quite understand the complicated relationship between Natasha and Clint either, but he didn’t ever want to be the one on the receiving end of Natasha’s temper.

“What about Peggy? Still hear from her?”

“Phone calls on birthdays, that sort of thing. She’s doing great work with her non-profit group, helping a lot of people, can’t feel bad about that.” Steve turned toward the ring, trying to guess how much longer it would be. Now he was here, he was counting down the minutes until he could get back to his warm, cozy bed and to Loki.

“Never would’ve guessed we’d all end up so far apart, you know.” Bucky was staring ahead but clearly not seeing anything in front of him. “I guess when you’re young, you think it’ll last forever. You, me, Peggy, the rest of the gang. I heard Dugan lives out in the suburbs now, got himself a nine to five.”

“Gabe’s in California. Some sort of Internet startup. Going pretty well for him, I think.”

“That’s good,” Bucky said absently.

Frowning, Steve glanced sideways at him. “What’s up, Buck?”

“Feeling my age, I guess.” Bucky shrugged, then sighed. “Wondering what I have to show for it, you know. Traveling all the time, seeing the world. Sometimes it would be nice not to be living out of a suitcase. That’s all.”

“I’m sure you could find something else. Put down some roots.”

“Nah.” Bucky waved it off. “I’m no good for that kind of life. I’d get bored.”

“You’ve always got me.” He bumped his shoulder against Bucky’s.

“Do I?” Bucky’s expression turned thoughtful. He stared down at the cup of beer in his hand for a few long moments. “I guess maybe I’d hoped we could try again someday. You and me. See if we could make it work.”

“Bucky.”

He laughed and it sounded brittle. “You’re whipped, Rogers. Even a blind man could see that Laufeyson has you wrapped around his little finger.”

Steve hesitated. This kind of talk wasn’t like Bucky. He’d always been the pragmatic one, whereas Steve was too stubbornly idealistic to accept the reality of what he couldn’t change. 

“Just the beer talking.” Bucky raised his cup in a mock toast before draining it. “You want another?”

“You know what? Sure. Let’s drink.” 

He watched Bucky disappear into the crowd in search of another beer and his heart felt heavy. Before Loki, he probably would’ve jumped at the chance to give it another shot with Bucky, especially if he was seriously considering settling down. It was everything Steve had waited for and everything that had driven them apart. Then again, he knew Bucky well enough to know he probably wouldn’t make it more than a few months before the travel bug started making him antsy to get back out into the world again. Still, it was bittersweet to think about how things might have turned out if Loki hadn’t shown up to help him move.

The crowd erupted, indicating there was finally movement in the ring and Steve pushed those thoughts out of his mind. By the time Bucky returned with another beer, the two fighters had made their entrances and the announcer was hyping them up, working the crowd into a frenzy of cheering.

“’Bout time!” Bucky shouted over the noise.

Steve grinned at him. “Who’d you bet on?”

“Only one I ever bet on was you, old pal.” Bucky winked at him. “And you never let me down.”

“Never will.” 

They shared a look and Bucky nodded slightly before turning to the ring and joining in on the loud cheering. Steve was content to sit back and watch. All was right with the world, he thought. He had his best friend at his side and the guy he loved at home; it didn’t get much better than that.

**

Loki found nothing particularly unusual in his cursory background search on James Buchanan Barnes, but the lack of it only fueled his suspicions. He had confirmed one thing; Barnes had no uncles on his mother’s side. 

He didn’t like coincidences. 

He liked even less that Barnes had taken Steve to the Warehouse; a well-established connection point for undercover law enforcement and Intelligence agencies as well as the denizens of the seedier underbelly of the city. A more thorough investigation would take time but, with Odin’s connections, he’d know the truth of who Barnes was and who he worked for before the end of the week. His first guess was CIA and now he wondered about John Garrett. He didn’t tend to ask questions about the targets Odin gave him; he didn’t particularly care. But someone had sent Barnes to investigate under the guise of a death in the family and who Garrett had been would shed light on the invisible hand. Steve didn’t know, he was certain. Steve hadn’t noticed the way Barnes kept his back to a solid wall or the way he watched the exits, all well-worn habits of someone in the life. Steve never noticed when Loki did it either.

The rental car pulled into the drive at nearly two in the morning and he quickly shut off his tablet and the bedside lamp. Sliding down under the covers, he closed his eyes, listening to every sound. There was a low murmur of voices and the soft tread of footsteps as they moved about the house. The water in the bathroom turned on and off a few times. Eventually, he heard the bedroom door open and close. Steve was trying to be quiet as he undressed in the darkness. The mattress shifted with his weight as he climbed into the bed.

“Loki?” Steve whispered.

Loki made a non-committal, sleepy noise. Steve pressed against his back, one arm wrapping around him and pulling him close. Warm lips brushed against the side of his neck, breath ghosting over his ear, and a shiver raced up along his spine.

“Do you want me to let you sleep?” Steve murmured against his hair.

“You reek of cigarette smoke and beer.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. Should’ve thought of that. I’ll jump in the shower.”

He caught Steve’s arm and kept him there. “No, it’s fine.”

“You sure?” Steve’s lips were warm against his shoulder.

He reached back to catch Steve’s hip and pull him closer. Beneath the quilt, Steve’s cock, already half hard, brushed against his ass. He felt a flutter in his stomach, something between nervousness and excitement. 

“You're naked, that is so hot," Steve murmured. "You are so sexy. I love your body.”

He wondered how much Steve had had to drink while he was out with Barnes. Steve shifted so he could slide his right arm beneath Loki’s head; he brushed Loki’s hair out of the way and settled his mouth against the base of his neck, sucking lightly, more teasing than serious. His left hand drifted over Loki’s stomach and then lower, slipping between his legs to stroke and lightly cup his balls. Loki kept his eyes closed. He focused on breathing as Steve ground against his ass. He didn’t care if Barnes heard them having sex; in fact, nothing would please him more. 

“You feel so good.”

Loki smiled in the darkness. Steve simply couldn’t help himself; the way he rambled in bed was almost unconscious. He felt Steve shudder and pull away a little, his hand sliding to Loki’s hip and gripping tight. “What?”

“I thought about you, in bed, and what I’d do to you when I got home.” Steve pressed light kisses against the back of Loki’s neck. After a moment, his hand drifted to Loki’s ass. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Loki felt Steve’s hand drift further and one finger slipped between his buttocks. The flutter in his stomach doubled. He gripped the quilt tightly.

“You just tensed up.” Steve stayed carefully still. “I’ll stop. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Heat flared up in the pit of his stomach and pressed back against Steve’s hand. “It’s fine,” he repeated.

Steve mouthed at Loki’s neck again, his hand moving very slowly. “I want to make you feel good, so good. I can show you how good, if you want me to. Only if you want me to.”

“Okay,” Loki whispered hoarsely. He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.

“Let me grab the lube. Just relax.” He rolled away, fumbling in the darkness. When he came back, he pulled Loki against his chest and reached around to catch his chin, turning his face up. The kiss was slow and sweet and made Loki’s head spin. He dragged his lips down Loki’s neck, licking against the spot he’d found earlier. 

Loki heard the click of plastic as Steve opened the bottle of lubricant. He tried to focus on the heat of Steve’s skin against his back and the pleasant sparks of heat spreading out from where Steve’s lips touched. Steve kept his touches light, caressing and kneading, all the while murmuring encouragements and reassurances. The shivers up the back of Loki’s neck were turning into whole body shudders; his cock filling until it ached. Steve rocked against him, his cock hard against Loki’s ass, in a way that was undeniably, impossibly sensual, until Loki couldn’t stop a low moan from escaping his lips. Steve’s hand shifted and his finger felt warm and slick as he made slow, teasing swipes against Loki’s asshole. Loki raised his left leg, hooking his foot behind Steve’s legs and dragging the quilt half off of them.

“That’s right. Open up for me.” Steve pulled Loki tighter against his chest, drawing him into an arch as his finger pressed into him. “You’re so tight. God, Loki. You feel so good. Relax for me. That’s it. You feel amazing. You have no idea how much I want this, want you this way. To be inside you like this. When you're ready.”

Loki’s voice stuck in his throat as Steve continued to finger him. It felt _good_ and _terrifying_ at the same time. He kept thinking about Steve’s face when it was reversed and Loki was buried to the hilt in Steve. His face flushed; what Steve was doing making him feel like a thunderstorm about to break. It wasn’t entirely physical, he thought irrationally. He barely realized he was writhing against Steve, grinding back as Steve’s finger curled inside him and he was being spread open even further.

“God, Loki,” Steve groaned softly.

“Fuck me,” Loki panted.

“Easy, easy. Slow down.”

Loki caught Steve’s hip, his fingers digging in. “I want you.”

“Shh, shh. You’re too tight, it’s gonna take more time. Just let me take care of you, okay?” Steve nuzzled against his neck. “I’ll get you there, I promise.”

“Steve.” It was almost a whine, reedy and forced through his clenched teeth because whatever Steve was doing was going to drive him mad. 

He didn’t protest when Steve rolled him onto his back and moved down to kneel between his legs. His finger was only gone for a moment, but Loki groaned at the loss. He barely had time to reach down, digging his fingers into Steve’s hair, before Steve was fingering him again and pushing even deeper. Warm lips fastened against his cock a moment later and it was all he could do to stop from bucking. He was coming apart by inches.

“Goddamn it, Steve,” he cursed as quietly as possible, tugging at Steve’s hair. Steve laughed softly and Loki could feel the vibration of it all through his cock, which only made him harder. 

With a groan that was half pleasure and half defeat, he squeezed his eyes shut. The next moments felt drawn out into the spaces between heartbeats; he had time to pull his hands away from Steve’s hair and grip the bed sheets beneath him. Steve’s fingers curled inside him as his lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him into the wet heat of his mouth. Loki came with a guttural shout, incapable of caring if anyone heard him. He was disoriented and panting for breath when he came back down.

“I think you just woke up the entire neighborhood,” Steve whispered against his ear, sounding as though he was trying not to laugh.

“I hate you,” Loki said breathlessly.

“Really? Because I think I knocked that one out of the park. I’ve never made you scream like that before.” Steve nipped at Loki’s shoulder. “But now I know I can. And when you're ready, it’s going to be my dick inside you, making you scream like that. You gonna scream my name as I fuck you? I’d like that. I like this too. Feeling you shiver when I touch you.”

Loki didn’t trust his own tongue enough to speak. His thoughts were too fractured by sex and bliss and the mix of cigarette smoke and musk on Steve’s skin. He reached down between their bodies and palmed Steve’s cock, still hard and leaking. He heard Steve’s breath catch in his throat.

Steve breathed out a small moan. “Will you suck me off? You have the most amazing mouth. God, I love your mouth on me."

He spurred himself to move, pushing Steve onto his back. He was determined now, determined to make Steve quiver and shake just as badly as he had. He was ruthless; he brought Steve to the edge with his tongue and then pulled him back a half dozen times. When he found the forgotten bottle of lubricant tangled up in the sheets, he coated two fingers, then three, and saw to it that Steve was writhing in exquisite agony. Steve’s orgasm was muffled - he’d clapped both hands over his mouth in an attempt to be quiet - when Loki finally took pity on him. It was nearly dawn when Loki stumbled out of the bedroom, a pair of boxers pulled on as an afterthought, to get a washcloth to clean them up a bit. Steve hadn’t moved an inch when he returned.

“You are evil,” Steve mumbled as Loki laid down beside him.

“Is that so?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He was already well on his way to sleep and was completely gone in the next breath.

Loki closed his eyes, sated and exhausted. He would worry about who James Barnes really was in a few hours, but for now, he felt safe and content lying beside Steve.

He didn’t wake when Steve got up to leave for work, though he wasn’t entirely sure how Steve had managed to even hear the alarm clock. It was another four hours before the sun through the bedroom window made it impossible for him to stay in bed. Sleepily, he went through the motions of showering and getting dressed. He thought he should probably try to have the house cleaned and dinner made by the time Steve got home, since he hadn’t had to get up and go to work. He made a beeline for the coffee machine, cleaning it out from the batch Steve had made earlier and setting a fresh pot brewing.

“He surprises you, doesn’t he?”

Loki almost dropped his mug, but recovered his composure quickly. He glanced up to see Barnes leaning against the end of the kitchen cupboards, a coffee mug in his hand. Unlike the night before, Barnes was wearing a short sleeve shirt that bared his left arm and Loki realized with surprise that it was an advanced prosthetic. It was unlike anything he'd seen before and its motion was so natural he hadn't realized Barnes was missing an arm until that moment.

Barnes pushed off from the cupboard and circled around the bar. “He’s the kind of guy who helps old ladies across the street and volunteers at soup kitchens. And then you get him in bed and, wow. I mean, who knew such a stand up, all American guy like that is a complete freak in the bedroom.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“You figure he’ll be shy and stammering until he opens his mouth. It’s something, isn’t it?” 

He was brazenly trying to push Loki’s buttons, though Loki wasn’t sure why. What looked like simple jealousy on the surface could be something much more sinister.

Loki finally turned to face him. “That makes it all the sweeter when he does stammer. Weren’t you able to make him do that?” 

He saw the set of Barnes’ jaw. Not jealousy then, but something else; jealousy burned hot like rage and the look in Barnes’ eyes was cold as ice.

Lips turned up into a half smile, Barnes continued. “Steve says you’ve changed. Gone straight.”

“I have,” Loki answered evenly. This was something he could deal with; this was familiar ground. Given his past, most of it splashed all over the tabloids, it was expected that Barnes would be skeptical and protective.

“Guess I find that a little hard to believe.”

“Then it’s a good thing it doesn’t matter what you believe.” He went for a mug and set it out, then started unloading the dishwasher. 

“I’ve known Steve all my life. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that he gives people too many chances. Hell, he’s given me more chances than I deserve.”

“And because you were unworthy, I must be as well,” Loki replied, knowing he was goading and not particularly caring.

“No one’s worthy of Steve.”

Loki finished putting away the clean dishes and started loading in the ones needing to be cleaned. “How do you think he would feel about the pedestal you’ve put him on? And what happens when he falls off of it, as he inevitably will. I don’t have your history with him, but at least I see him clearly.” 

He understood the temptation to view Steve as something divine, superhuman, and perfect. He found himself thinking of Steve that way often enough, but he’d also grown up in Thor’s shadow and knew even the most golden of sons had secrets and scars. He was unworthy of Steve’s love, he definitely agreed, but he also knew Steve would be the first to tell him love didn’t work that way. He finished loading the dishwasher by the time the coffee was ready and filled his mug, holding up the carafe in unspoken offer. Barnes held out his mug for a refill. 

It struck Loki as ironic that he was standing in Steve’s kitchen with a possible intelligence operative who might be investigating one of his targets and he was pouring him coffee. He returned the carafe back to its place. Lifting his mug to his lips, he smiled. “Truce?”

Barnes raised his mug as well. “You hurt him and they won’t find your body.”

“Likewise,” Loki said, still smiling. “I’m glad we understand one another.”

He ignored Barnes after that, acting as though he wasn’t there. The kitchen floor needed to be scrubbed, the counters wiped down, and he pulled some frozen chicken from the freezer to thaw. At some point, Barnes disappeared with his black duffel bag and Loki heard the engine of the rental car start up. Watching out the front window, he waited until he saw the car pull away from the house before he retrieved his tablet from the bedroom. It took a couple hours, off and on, to get everything arranged for work to begin in the basement. He took care to schedule as much as possible during working hours when Steve would be away. 

With that out of the way, he dug out Steve’s favorite recipe for baked Parmesan chicken, taking care with the worn card because it had been Steve’s mother’s. Her handwriting was the same neat cursive as Steve’s. While the chicken marinated, he stripped the bed and replaced the linens, then tidied up the bedroom and bathroom. Occasionally glancing at the clock, he checked his messages - nothing about Barnes yet - and slid the chicken into the oven in time for it to be ready when Steve got home. On an impulse, he started the water in the large, claw-footed bathtub when he guessed Steve should be leaving work. 

By the time he heard the familiar rumble of Steve’s motorcycle, he had two glasses of wine waiting on the bar and soft jazz playing in the background. The buzzer dinged for the chicken a moment before the kitchen door opened and Steve stepped inside, his eyes going wide for a moment. Then he grinned, closing the door behind him, and hung his keys on the rack.

“You’re just in time.” Loki set the baking dish on the stove top.

“Did Bucky head out?”

“A few hours ago.”

Steve took a deep breath, his gaze moving over the kitchen. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Hands down.”

Laughing, Loki waved him toward the bar. “Don’t start thinking I’m going to cook and clean for you all the time. But since I did keep you up last night.”

“Which I encourage you to do as often as you want.” Shrugging out of his heavy jacket, he took a seat and waited patiently for Loki to dish out the chicken and pre-mixed salad.

“There’s a hot bath waiting for you when you’ve finished eating.”

Steve stared at him. “Who are you and what have you done with Loki?”

“Are you implying I never do anything for you?”

“Usually not this much, not all at once.”

“If you’re going to complain-”

“Not complaining. Nope, not at all. Shutting up now.” Steve grabbed his fork and dug into the chicken. “I’m going to eat this delicious meal and take the wine with me while I soak in the tub. Thank you. This is exactly what I needed. Everything and more.” 

Loki watched Steve, amused and far too fond of him for his own good.

“Did you and Bucky talk at all? After I left,” Steve said between mouthfuls.

“He threatened to kill me if I hurt you.”

Steve choked, coughing and reaching for his wine. “I told him not to do anything like that. Sorry. He’s never really gotten over being overprotective. When we were growing up, I was sick a lot. And I hit my growth spurt a lot later than the other kids, but being half their size never stopped me from opening my big mouth. Bucky always felt like he had to watch out for me, keep me out of trouble.”

“You needn’t make excuses for him.”

“He shouldn’t have threatened you.”

Loki hummed thoughtfully. “I told him I’d do the same to him.”

Steve blinked, then started laughing. “Of course you did. You’re two peas in a pod, I swear. I suppose it’s too much to ask for my boyfriend and my best friend to get along.”

A tightness settled into Loki’s chest at the word _boyfriend_. It also occurred to him that he’d never heard Steve talk about being sick during childhood before and this had barely been a passing mention. Steve was an open book; that was one of Loki’s favorite aspects of him, and it was jarring to realize there was still a great deal about his life Loki didn’t know. He hadn’t particularly cared to know, but now he wondered what other chapters he had yet to read. What he didn’t know about Steve’s past didn’t ease his mind about Barnes, who he suspected would intervene if given half an opportunity. He was certain Garrett’s death couldn’t be linked to him, but still, instinct told him not to underestimate Barnes.

“Loki?”

He pulled himself back from his thoughts. “Yes?”

“What were you thinking about?”

Taking a sip from his wine glass bought him a moment to reorient his focus. “That your bath is getting cold.” He made a hurrying gesture toward Steve’s plate.

“Alright, alright,” Steve laughed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I’ll take it.”

Loki kept up light conversation, posing safe questions about what jobs had been finished and what new work had come into the graphic design company Steve worked for. Steve was always willing to talk about his work and Loki loved listening to the vivid descriptions of colors and designs. Once Steve was soaking in the tub, Loki took care of the dishes and carried in the bottle of wine to refill Steve’s glass.

“You should get in with me,” Steve told him sleepily, his eyes half closed.

He leaned down to kiss Steve’s forehead. “We’d get water all over the floor.” 

Steve looked up, turning his head to the side. “There’s nothing going on that I should know about, is there?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I can’t really explain it. It’s like you’re more _here_ , than you’ve been before. That probably doesn’t make any sense.”

Loki smiled. “Not really.”

“I guess I’ve always wondered if you’re really happy here with me, in this stupid little house. Now I feel like I can stop worrying about that, like all the pieces came together somehow. I just wish I knew how.”

“Perhaps you were merely worried over nothing.” He pressed another kiss against Steve’s hair. “I’m headed to bed. Don’t make me wait too long.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Glass of wine in hand, Loki retreated to the bedroom and took his time getting ready for bed. He settled in, pulling the quilt over his legs and reaching for his tablet as he churned Steve’s words over in his mind. 

Something had changed, something he wasn’t entirely ready to face or acknowledge. Maybe he’d simply been foolish and come to believe his own elaborately woven cover story, which would only make it that much more effective. He picked at that thread of a thought, examining it with the same objectivity he gave his job. At some point, it had stopped being a lie; it had stopped being just a cover. He’d never truly thought of his future; he’d never assumed he’d have much of one. A few more years, a decade at the most, before the life caught up with him or he simply drove his car into oncoming traffic. He hesitated at the edge of that particular thought and wondered if it would be wise to follow it. He’d learned not to look too deeply into his own mind. After he’d started working for Odin, it had been a defense mechanism. All the objective rationalizations in the world didn’t change the fact that he killed other human beings for a living. He thought of latest Odin’s parting words; Steve would not love him once he knew the truth.

He would only be able to hold onto this life as long as Steve didn’t know; if he found out, none of the tentative, fragile plans Loki had started to piece together would matter. He’d started to think about a future. A wooden slat swing on a new porch; a flower bed of tiger lilies and tomato plants. They were small, simple, normal dreams, but the thought of losing them was a dull ache in his stomach. It was a given that Odin would try to take this simple life away from him, but how? Odin would undoubtedly want to teach Loki a lesson as well as get rid of a minor annoyance, to remind Loki he was in charge and Loki existed only to do his bidding.

“I was thinking,” Steve said as he came through the doorway, naked and still glistening from the bath. His voice was muffled by the towel he was using to dry his hair.

Mesmerized, Loki watched the play of muscles beneath Steve’s skin. Heat flared in his cheeks and low in his abdomen, arousal pooling and making him feel feverish.

“Winter would be a good time to tackle the basement. What should we put down there other than a wine cellar? TV room? Might be nice not to have the glare from the front window every time we watch a movie.” Steve’s expression was thoughtful as he ran the towel over his skin. “What about a fireplace? I’d rather have a real one but that would probably mean cutting into the foundation and through the outside wall. And the fake ones are getting better all the time.”

He knew Steve was sleep deprived; there were dark circles under his eyes. Still, some part of him wondered if Steve would be up for continuing what they’d started last night. He’d thought about what it would be like to be on the receiving end of anal sex. Steve seemed to enjoy it and he’d always been curious, but he’d also been content to leave that curiosity unsatisfied. It was a level of intimacy he wasn’t willing to embrace, though Steve offered it up without hesitation. Steve lived so easily. Whatever life threw at him, Steve adjusted and kept moving on with a quiet determination; nothing seemed to disturb the steady core of hope inside him. Briefly, Loki wondered if even his own dark truth could shake Steve’s belief in the goodness of people, but that was foolish to hope for. In the end, Thor was right; he was a monster. 

The mattress shifted beside him. Steve was no longer naked, though the boxer briefs hid very little. “What’s going on inside that head of yours?” He stretched out on his side, reaching over to take Loki’s hand.

Loki managed a smile. Even exhausted, Steve still looked out for everyone else. Setting aside the tablet, he caught hold of Steve, one hand against the back of his head, and leaned in for a kiss. Steve was right, something had changed. Loki was no longer pretending to be part of this normal life in this little house, no longer pretending this was what he wanted. This was real and the thought of it terrified him. Everything he’d ever wanted had always ended up being torn away, taken from him, or destroyed by virtue of who and what he was. But _this_ , he wanted to hold onto this so desperately he ached with it.

The push was gentle, but firm. Steve caught his chin and met his gaze squarely. “Okay, what’s up? You are definitely acting strange. Don’t try to deny it, just tell me what’s going on.”

 _I don’t want to be a monster anymore_ , Loki thought. It sounded ridiculous in his head and would undoubtedly sound even more ridiculous if spoken aloud. Instead, he dropped his eyes and licked his lips. “You barely slept last night.”

“And?”

“Nothing. I know you’re tired.”

“And you think I’m too tired for…what?” Steve raised his eyebrows, waiting.

“Sex,” Loki answered simply.

Steve blinked. “Are you…really? I mean, yeah, I’m tired.” His brow creased as he frowned. “You think you can’t ask me for sex because I’m tired. What do you think I’m going to do? Get mad at you because you want to have sex with me?” 

“It’s not…maybe.”

“I’m not going to get mad or punish you for asking for what you want.” Steve caught his hand and pressed his lips against his palm. “I don’t even want to know why you think I’d do that.”

He tried to smile and failed.

“I am tired. I’m about five minutes from oblivion and I don’t think I’ll be good for anything without some sleep.” Catching Loki’s wrist, he pulled him close and rolled onto his back. Loki had no choice but to follow, laying his head on Steve’s shoulder and reaching down to pull the quilt up over them. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want you or that I don’t love you. Or that I’ll get mad at you. Loki. I’m sure we’ll fight, probably a lot, probably about stupid stuff that doesn’t even matter. We’ll get mad and yell at each other. Then we’ll say we’re sorry and move forward and hopefully have awesome make up sex. But I’m not going to get mad because you told me that you wanted or needed something.”

Loki closed his eyes and let himself pretend this was all there was, that his life was as simple as Steve thought it could be.

“And just because I’m tired.” Steve nuzzled Loki’s hair, his lips brushing against his forehead. “Doesn’t mean we can’t do anything. You’ll have to take the lead, that’s all.”

As he settled against the furnace that was Steve’s body, he realized he didn’t know what to ask for and, somehow, asking for anything felt like an act of such selfishness that he was ashamed to even want what Steve was willing to give. Instead, he wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist and pressed his face against his neck.

“Loki?”

“I forget, sometimes,” he began hesitantly. “That this is more than one night and I don’t have to…that you will be here in the morning.” It was only half a lie and a neat tie-in to his checkered past.

Steve’s eyes closed, his arm around Loki. “Someday, maybe I’ll understand why you picked me. I still don’t know why you showed up to help me move that day, but I’m glad you did. Really, really glad you did.”

After a moment, Loki whispered, “so am I.”

He was halfway to sleep and Steve was lightly snoring when he remembered the light was still on. Blearily, he disentangled himself from Steve’s embrace and reached for the lamp on his side of the bed. As he turned the knob, he saw the indicator light on his tablet flashing to show that he had a new message. He glanced back at Steve to be sure he was sleeping before he pulled the tablet onto the bed, shielding Steve from the glow by turning onto his side.

There were two messages. One was from Odin, demanding he come to the house the next day. He barely skimmed that one before deleting it. The second was a preliminary result from his inquiry into James Barnes and his normal, simple world crashed down around him as he read.

_James Buchanan Barnes. Affiliation: S.H.I.E.L.D. Known aliases: The Winter Soldier._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Small Tangent:** Personally, I do not subscribe to the negative portrayals of Steve's father that can be found in some of the comic books. I'm not a fan of it. However, I found it a useful story device in this particular fic. I spent a long time trying to decide if I couldn't achieve the same goal another way and I couldn't come up with a better idea. I'm sure there is one, I just didn't find it. So I'm referencing a little of that. I don't like it and I'm not particularly happy about using it, but there it is. Sorry.

The air was crisp and dry. It smelled of cold and snow, with an undercurrent of dried grass and layers of fallen leaves in the early stages of decay. A single strip of yellow tape was all that remained where John Garrett had died; blood had stained the snow and turned dark. Bucky Barnes turned his gaze to the edges of the clearing, tracking the line of woods where the forest began. Ballistics told him where the shot had come from and how far it had traveled; he’d trace that path next. The bullet itself was unusual and untraceable. If it hadn’t been for that one particular fact, and if the technician at the county crime lab had been less curious about a bullet they'd never seen before, he wouldn’t be standing in a field in northern Michigan.

“It’s all private land and national forest out there. Set aside as a game preserve. Pheasants mostly.” Agent Coulson had a portable GPS unit in one hand, holding it up to show Barnes the image. “Nearest access road is five miles south.”

“Hiked in, waited for Garrett to show.” He raised a hand to block the glare from the sun. “Tree stand, probably. Judging from the angle. Long ways off.” It was what he would've done.

Coulson squinted against the bright winter sun. “Think it’s our ghost?” 

“Fits the profile. And there's the bullet.” He walked carefully around the spot where Garrett had fallen, picking out the boot prints of the EMTs and the county police who had surveyed the scene. “Untraceable rounds, lack of forensics. A hunting accident is just plausible enough to slip through the cracks. Except for the tiny little fact that you don’t use a rifle to hunt pheasants.”

“It’s also deer season,” Coulson remarked.

“Which opens the door for the poacher angle the county police are working on. Someone not supposed to be on the land, maybe tracked a buck in or just hoping to get lucky. Looks good enough on paper to be believable. I really hate this guy. Been chasing him for two years and we've got nothing.” He knelt down to get a closer look at one of the boot prints and the much smaller animal print nearby. “Where’s the dog?”

“Local rescue group.”

“Too bad it can’t tell us anything.” Glancing back up at toward the edge of the woods, he already knew they wouldn’t find much of anything.

“Police said the house was untouched. Doors and windows still locked.”

“This was a hit, not a robbery. It wasn’t personal. At least, not for our ghost.” Bucky sighed as he stood up. Even if the shooter was only a hired gun, the hits themselves had to boil down to an all too human motivation. Fear, greed, anger, hatred; murder always came down to humanity, no matter how many layers of cold indifference were spread between victim and killer. “Let’s check the house anyway.” 

This was the fourth SHIELD agent killed under suspicious circumstances. After the first two deaths, they’d known it couldn’t be coincidence and SHIELD started digging. The last thing they’d expected to find was a pattern, as finely laced as a spider web but clear enough, of the unknown assassin who'd cost Bucky his left arm. There was barely enough evidence to piece anything together; their ghost was very good. 

The house was sealed off with tape as well; the county police were thorough and had done due diligence. Inside, the empty, ranch style house was chilled with the absence of a living occupant. Empty houses always gave Bucky the creeps. He moved quietly, his boots barely making a sound. There was a surreal quality to the stack of mail and newspapers; the remote control sitting beside the leather armchair as though waiting to be used. He saw no indication anyone other than Garrett had lived there. The fireplace mantle was cluttered with picture frames displaying images of Garrett and his dogs. He picked up one of the pictures and studied it. There were different dogs, but all the same breed. Brown and white, some spotted, with amber eyes and powerful, barrel chests meant for leaping and climbing. A sense of unease, like the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, began to settle along his spine. 

“You know what kind of dogs these are?” He held the picture up for Coulson to see.

“German shorthaired pointers. Good bird dogs. Lots of energy, lots of power, very intelligent. Garrett loved those dogs.”

“German shorthair,” Bucky repeated.

“Do you think it matters?”

“No, no. Just,” he trailed off, frowning at the picture as he put it back. “Just a coincidence.”

“You know I don’t believe in those.”

Bucky tapped a finger against the mantle, thinking. “Neither do I.”

“Something you want to share with the class, Barnes?”

He turned away from the fireplace. He’d learned to trust his instincts since joining SHIELD and they hadn’t let him down. Briefly, he wondered if he was merely seeing what he wanted to see, but that could be settled easily enough. He dug his phone out of his jacket and called his Commanding Officer.

“Hill,” Maria Hill answered briskly.

“It’s Barnes. Can you look someone up for me?”

“I’m not a dating service, Barnes.”

“Very funny. The name is Loki Laufeyson.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’ll wait.” He ignored the look Coulson was giving him. In the background, he could hear Maria typing. She must’ve put him on speaker phone.

“Anything particular you’re looking for? Guy’s got a rap sheet a mile long.”

“Nothing unusual?”

“Multiple drug arrests. Property damage. Public intoxication charges, possession, the usual. Nothing seems to stick to him though.” Maria paused. “Looks like your typical trust fund party boy.”

Bucky gnawed at his lower lip. All of that, he knew already. “Keep digging, okay? There’s something off about the guy.”

“You expect me to use SHIELD resources for this? You’ve got to give me more than that.”

He wasn’t about to admit the idea of Steve being in love with someone else - anyone else - made him nauseous. Maria would write him off as the jealous ex, and she’d be right, but that wasn’t why he was asking. At least, he didn’t _think_ that was why he was asking. “If I’m right, you’ll be thanking me. You and Coulson both.”

“Alright, but beer and wings are on you next time.”

“Consider it done.” He ended the call and stowed his phone. Coulson was looking at him expectantly. “Just a hunch.”

Coulson glanced at the pictures of Garrett’s dogs. “Your hunches are usually solid.” 

“What do you know about Asgard Industries?”

“A bit flashy for my taste but they get the job done. SHIELD has brought them in on extractions every now and then. They specialize in pulling off the impossible and aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty. If you’ve got a problem that can only be solved with fists or napalm, Asgard’s the place to go.” Coulson turned to leave the room, heading back to the front door. “I met Odin once. Can’t say he’s the warm and fuzzy type. SHIELD thought about trying to recruit his son, Thor. He’d be a real asset. Loki, not so much. Too volatile, too risky.”

Bucky kept his thoughts to himself. If his hunch did amount to something, then Steve was smack dab in the middle of it. He wasn’t sure what _it_ was, but he was determined to find out. 

**

Loki put off going to Odin’s until after Steve left for work, well rested and full of promises for the night to come, and after the contractor he’d contacted the day before came to see the basement and provide an estimate for the work. If he was surprised by Loki’s plans or his need for the work to be completed as soon as possible, he didn’t seem to care as long as he got paid and he didn’t ask a lot of questions. 

If Loki were honest with himself, which he tried not to be, then he had to admit he didn’t want to see Odin because he didn’t want to be handed another envelop, take another flight, or kill another person, all in Asgard’s name. He also didn’t want to think about any of it. 

Finally, he locked the kitchen door behind him and set out. He would be able to find more information about James Barnes through Odin’s resources anyway and some of those required connecting to Asgard’s internal network. He knew of Barnes under his Winter Soldier alias rather than his name, which did nothing to ease his anxiety over how and why Barnes had chosen to reenter Steve’s life now. If SHIELD had a living embodiment of its will, and its readiness to enforce that will, it was the Winter Soldier; he was the SHIELD bogeyman in the darkness. Loki didn’t want to consider what might happen, however unlikely, if - _when_ \- Barnes figured out who Loki was. 

At least Thor’s truck was nowhere to be seen. Small mercies.

He let himself into the mansion and made his way to Odin’s office. Idly, he wondered if Odin ever left the office now, if he’d left it at all since Frigga's death. He’d been dedicated to Asgard before her death and there was nothing to stop him from working twenty-four hours a day without her. The door was closed so he knocked, half hoping Odin would miraculously be elsewhere.

“Come in.”

No luck. Loki turned the knob and let himself in, bracing himself for whatever lecture Odin had prepared for him. He was surprised when Odin motioned for him to take a seat, his attention still very much on the laptop in front of him.

“There’s a file on the table. It’s for you,” Odin said mildly.

“Another job? I’ve only been home two days.” He reached for the envelope. It was thicker than usual.

“Not a job. Just information.”

Loki cast a skeptical look toward Odin, but opened up the packet and tugged the file out. Like every other file Odin gave him, there was a name printed neatly on the top cover. Steven Grant Rogers. His heart lurched into his throat and his hands shook.

“You had no right." His voice cracked with fear or anger or something else entirely.

“You’re my son. I have every right.”

“I’m your _asset_ , not your son.”

“Read it.”

He wanted to refuse, wanted to tell Odin to go to Hell. He didn’t care what was in the file and there was nothing, could be nothing, on the pages that would change how he felt. But he also knew ignorance would not save him. Whatever Odin had found, he was certain to use it against him, and against Steve, to twist the circumstances to his liking. With trembling fingers, he opened the file and began to flip through the pages. He tried not to read the words, tried to just skim over them. There were hospital records, report cards, court records, tax records, copies of his birth certificate and copies of his parents’ death certificates; Steve’s entire life, all his secrets, laid bare in print and photographs. 

“Juvenile records are sealed for a reason,” he said sourly, not able to focus on the page in front of him.

“Nothing is beyond my reach.” Odin didn’t bother sounding pleased with himself. His was the same crisp, business focused tone he used to discuss everything else. What he was truly saying, in not so many words, was that Loki’s freedom was only an illusion, that it could be taken away in an instant.

Loki slammed the file shut and shoved it back into the envelope. “What did you think this would change?” 

“I only wished to make you think about the consequences.” Odin finally turned away from his laptop, focusing his one eye on Loki. “About what you have invited into his life by being with him.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care about any of this.”

“I didn’t expect you to.” Odin leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk and his hands clasped. It gave him the look of a kindly doctor trying to explain a simple concept to a particularly dull patient. “Do you think I’m the only one who would go looking into his background? How do you think he’ll feel? When the vultures begin to circle, when they start picking at his secrets and expose them to the world. All because of you. That was part of your plan, wasn’t it? Or did you intend to leave him once the questions started. Do you think he’s willing to sacrifice his anonymity and his privacy for you? So that you can hide behind him and use him for your own purposes. You didn’t look deep enough, Loki, when you picked your mark. He’s not the saint you believe him to be.”

Loki felt the chess pieces sliding into place around him. “If you’ve told anyone, paid anyone-”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort,” Odin said immediately, dismissively. “But a whisper can become a shout if not silenced before it grows.”

“What do you want?” Loki carefully enunciated every word.

“End it. I want you back under this roof and to have no further contact with him. Do so and you have my word that what is in that file will never see the light of day.”

“And if I don’t?” His voice sounded small and plaintive, the voice of a child.

Odin’s gaze hardened. “Those you care for can be taken from you. If you refuse, consider this a lesson.”

He knew there was nothing he could say. There was no reasoning with Odin; there never had been. No pleading, no amount of begging, would make a damn bit of difference. Check and mate. Odin had known, must’ve realized, Loki was beginning to think of leaving, beginning to want _more_ , and he was trying to stop the end before it could even begin. 

Loki looked away, pulling the envelope closer in a self-conscious, protective gesture as pathetic as it was futile. He fished his car keys out of his pocket as he stood up, heading for the door without asking Odin if he was finished spewing his hateful poison. He drove home - _home_ \- in a daze and let himself in through the kitchen door. There were several more hours before Steve would get home. He could be packed, he could be gone, and maybe that would be easier. Maybe it could be simple. He could just disappear and Steve would be better off without him. But he would never be able to get away from Odin, not as long as they were both alive.

Angrily, he grabbed the bottle of gin from the top of the refrigerator and reached for a tumbler, slamming it down on the counter so hard he was surprised it didn’t shatter. He didn’t bother with ice, just poured out gin and added tonic until the glass was full. Drink in one hand and file in the other, he stalked into the living room and sat down in the armchair. He forced himself to open the file once again and, this time, he read every word and memorized every photograph.

Steven Grant Rogers had been born premature, with weak lungs unready to face the world. The doctors hadn’t given him more than a few years, believing his lungs would never fully mature and he would be sickly all his life. There were police reports, vaguely written but enough, to paint a picture of a father who drank too much and a mother who worked nights as a nurse. Before Steve reached high school, tragedy had struck and both his parents were dead; then there were the foster homes. More police reports; this time for starting fights in and out of school. There were medical records; a broken nose, broken ribs, fractured arm, fractured jaw. He ached to read about Steve growing from a boy to a man and how - _how?_ \- he became the compassionate, kind man he was, even in the face of all he’d suffered.

Loki gritted his teeth, blinking back unwanted tears. When he finished his drink, he poured another and kept reading. He read the details of Steve’s community service and about underground fights at the Warehouse. There was a copy of the engagement notice printed in the paper for Steve Rogers and Margaret Carter. In the whole file, there was scarce mention of James Barnes, as though he’d been surgically edited out of Steve’s life. He wondered if Odin had missed the significance of that or if, perhaps, he had realized what it meant and that was why he demanded Loki end the relationship. The sun began to set without him noticing or remembering to turn on the lights in the living room. He was drunk and had read the file cover to cover a dozen times by the time he heard Steve’s motorcycle. He closed the file and stayed in the chair, sitting in the darkness, with his head spinning from the gin. He didn’t think he’d ever hated Odin more than he did in the moment Steve opened the kitchen door and called his name.

“Loki?” Steve repeated. Footsteps sounded on the wood floor. The overhead light sprang to life when Steve flipped the switch. He blinked, taking in the glass and the bottle of gin on the coffee table. “Are you okay?”

Loki didn’t speak, not trusting his own voice.

“Is there a reason you went through half a bottle of gin?” Steve moved to pick up the bottle and his gaze fell to the file. He frowned, seeing his name, and glanced quickly to Loki before he reached for the file. His eyes went wide as he opened it and he sat down suddenly, like a puppet with his strings severed. “Loki. This is, this is my life. Oh my God. These are sealed. These are supposed to be sealed.”

Loki closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing steady as he listened to Steve flip through the pages.

“Why?” Steve's voice was filled with hurt rather than anger. “I would’ve told you. There is nothing in here I wouldn’t have told you. You didn’t have to do this, Loki. I wouldn’t have kept any of this from you, I wasn’t keeping it from you. Maybe I don’t advertise that I bounced around foster homes or that I’ve been arrested. I’ve got stuff I’m not proud of, but I wasn’t hiding any of it.”

He wanted to let it go, wanted to let Steve believe the worst of him. It would be easier to leave if Steve was angry, if he could make Steve tell him to leave. But even as he winced under Steve’s rebuke, he couldn’t bear for Steve to think of him that way. “I didn’t do this.”

“Loki, will you please look at me? Who did? Who even has access to this kind of information?”

Opening his eyes, he faced Steve. He kept his voice gentle. “This is what the press will find when they tear your life apart. Do you understand now? Do you realize that’s what will happen? Not if, just when.” 

Steve frowned. He raked his hand through his hair before shoving the file away as though he could be rid of it. “Where did you get this?”

“Odin,” Loki answered bitterly.

“Why?”

“Because he _could_. Because there is nothing in my life he won’t ruin. There is nothing that will ever be truly mine, nothing he can’t take away from me with the snap of his fingers.” Loki stopped, trying to pull himself back in, back under control, even as he felt tears burn tracks down his cheeks. He wiped them away savagely. It was best to get it over with, like ripping off a band aid. “I can’t stay. Here. With you. It’s over.” He was babbling now.

“What?” Steve tugged the glass from Loki’s hand and wrapped his fingers around Loki’s wrists. “Because of something in that file?”

Hysterical laughter bubbled up in his chest at the utter ridiculousness of the idea that _anything_ in Steve’s life could possibly compare to Loki’s. If anything, the information in the file only made Loki’s heart ache and love him even more.

“Loki?”

“If I stay,” Loki said sadly. “Your whole life will be up for grabs when someone needs a headline on a slow news day. Do you have any idea how cruel the press can be? The questions, the lies. All of it. I can’t…you shouldn’t…not because of me.” And if he stayed, there would always be the specter of SHIELD looming over them. 

One corner of Steve’s lips quirked, not quite turning into a smile. “We’ve had this conversation, remember? You don’t have to sacrifice us trying to protect me.”

“Steve.” He tugged free of Steve’s grip only to grab hold of him, hands against the sides of his neck and leaning in to press his forehead against Steve’s. “Any reporter who prints any of it…I swear. You’re going to have to stop me from hunting them down. You are so good, so wonderful, and I want them to see you as I do, want to hope that they will. I’m just…a fool. And they’ll tear you down with me. It doesn’t matter what happens to me, I don't care, but you don’t deserve this.”

“Loki.”

“Maybe we can just pretend.” He knew it was foolishness to hope for secrecy any longer; Odin would ensure they couldn’t escape scrutiny.

“No. We are not going to live that way. They can print that entire file if they want. I’m not ashamed of my past.” He pulled back, brushing Loki’s hair out of his face. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. Where can we go that someone will notice?”

He could think of a handful of restaurants and a couple of night clubs guaranteed to have a constant paparazzi presence. “You want someone to notice?”

“I want everyone to notice. We are going to come out, together, and we’re going to make sure the whole damn world knows it. Let them print whatever they want. We’re going to do it on our terms and to hell with them. And then, you are going to find another job. Go back to school if that’s what you want. We’ll figure it out, we’ll make it work. But you are not going to keep working for someone who tries to control you by threatening the people you care about, family or not.” There was determination in Steve’s voice and he looked bright, fearless.

Loki swallowed. “Do we have to do it tonight?”

“It’s up to you.” 

“Tomorrow. We’ll go out tomorrow.” 

“Alright. I’m going to get you some food and water and get you into the shower.” Steve’s hands were warm and firm against his neck. “We’ll take it from there.”

Loki only nodded. He’d never been good with people, never been good with emotions. And love, he was least competent at. He wanted to pretend the hateful file didn’t exist. Every time he closed his eyes, his head began to spin. The sandwich Steve coaxed him into eating helped, as did the tall glass of water. He listened to Steve talk about his day. He even laughed as they bumped into each other while Steve helped him strip off his clothes and climb into the shower. He hadn’t expected Steve to follow after him.

“You can barely stand and I don’t want you to slip and fall,” Steve informed him. 

He stopped talking or thinking after that because Steve’s hands were in his hair and all over his body. He was only slightly more sober by the time Steve turned the water off and helped him out of the shower.

“Shout if you need anything,” Steve murmured against Loki’s temple. “I’ll be in the bedroom.”

Loki was on autopilot. The world seemed to tilt around him and he was moving out of habit rather than conscious intent. Fumbling through his nighttime ritual, he managed to dry off and towel dry his hair before he stumbled into the bedroom. He was surprised to hear soft music and see another glass of water on the chair beside his side of the bed. Steve was seated on the bed, a beer in one hand. 

He thought of how Steve had fought against the whole world from the very moment he was born. He thought of the Steve who had protected his mother, who had fought back against bullies, and who loved art and beauty; the Steve who had seen something in _Loki_ that was worthy of love.

Crossing to the bed, he stripped away every possible obstacle between his body and Steve’s, climbing onto his lap and kissing him desperately. The heat of Steve’s skin, the clench of his hands as he reached for Loki’s ass, was too much and not enough in the same moment. He was torn between wanting to give Steve pleasure and wanting to give himself over to the pleasure Steve could draw from his body.

“Easy, easy. I’m not going anywhere,” Steve said, his voice barely a rumble in his chest. “Drink some more water if you can.”

“Fuck me.” It felt raw, like a confession, and his voice was thick. 

“How do you feel?”

“I’m fine.” That was a bold faced lie and Steve knew it. “You said you wanted it…wanted me.”

“And you look absolutely terrified.” Steve eased down onto his side, pulling Loki with him and running his fingers through Loki’s hair. “You know what I want?” He tapped a finger against the left side of Loki’s chest. “The rest is details. We’ll figure this out. And whatever else comes along after this, we’ll figure that out too. Right now, I want you to pass out and sleep it off. I’ll get some painkillers ready for you in the morning.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he blurted out, then closed his eyes so he couldn’t see Steve’s reaction. Steve was the one honest thing in his life full of lies. 

“Hush. I’m hiding the gin after this.”

A smile spread across his lips, unbidden. “You’ll need a suit.”

“A suit?”

“For dinner tomorrow.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Really?”

Loki opened one eye. “I’m hardly going to take you out looking like a lumberjack.”

“Hey!”

His smile turned into a laugh. “A suit. Properly tailored. I don’t suppose you own such a thing?”

“Actually.” Steve hesitated. “I have the suit I was going to get married in. Sentimental, I guess. Peggy thought I looked good in it, at least.”

Loki turned his face to burrow against Steve’s chest. The thought of Steve wearing a suit he’d meant to be married in made his stomach twist in a way that wasn’t entirely pleasant, but wasn’t unpleasant either. Too drunk to prevent it, he allowed himself a moment of fantasy where it was _their_ wedding and Steve was standing beside him. A foolish, childish dream to be certain.

“I can find something else if you want."

Saying he _didn’t_ was tantamount to admitting he wanted to see Steve in a suit meant for matrimony and saying he _did_ would be a lie. Rather than answer, he sunk more comfortably against Steve and pretended not to hear him. He wasn’t so far off from passing out that it wasn’t believable. The heat of Steve’s body and the steady rhythm of his breathing were a panacea steadily lulling him into sleep. If he remained silent then Steve could infer whichever answer he wished to hear and this wouldn’t be one more thing Loki had ruined. 

An idea occurred to him; the seed of an idea really, but he sluggishly noted it as something he could nurture to fruition. “Can you take off work Friday? Maybe a few days next week as well?”

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“I need to look into a few things before…before I tell you.” His head grew heavier by the moment. Finally, he stopped fighting it and let himself slip away into unconsciousness.

**

Steve waited until he was sure Loki was sound asleep before carefully slipping free of his grasp. For an hour, he half read and half watched Loki’s chest rise and fall as he breathed. He couldn’t remember if the bottle of gin had been unopened that morning. While Loki hadn’t reached the point of being drunk enough to be sick, he was fairly certain it had been close. The trends were obvious; Loki drank the most after he returned home from work trips and after visiting his father; it was one of the reasons Steve made the offer of having Loki live with him. But he’d never known Loki to drink like this. 

As quietly as he could, he climbed out of bed. His phone was still on the counter in the kitchen. He tried to avoid the spots where the old wood floor creaked. At first, he wanted to call Thor, wanted to demand an explanation for why Odin had investigated him, but when the phone lit up brightly, his fingers found Bucky’s number instead.

Bucky was so rarely in the States that phone calls were usually pointless, but Steve thought there was a chance he hadn’t left yet. He settled on the bottom of the steps to the attic, staring blankly at the front door as the phone rang.

“Steve?” Bucky sounded half asleep. “What’s up?”

“Hey. How was the funeral? The family holding up okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. It was nice. You know, the usual.” There was a rustling sound. Probably Bucky wrestling with the covers. “Did something happen? You don’t usually call me in the middle of the night.”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” He looked down at the floor between his feet, reaching out to trace a finger along the grain of the wood.

“Alright. Spill,” Bucky sighed. “Lay it on me.”

“It’s Loki. Sort of. Not really him, just…when I got home today, he’d gone through half a bottle of gin. He drinks, a lot, but not like this. And he had this file. Said his dad gave it to him. Odin.” He took a deep breath. “You know I’ve never heard him say ‘father’ or ‘dad’. It’s always just Odin.”

“Sounds like an interesting family,” Bucky’s tone was carefully neutral.

“When we first started seeing each other, I think part of it…I think he was just trying to piss Odin off. Being with a man. Guess Odin’s a little old fashioned or something. But now I’m not…I don’t know. It’s just a feeling.” When Bucky didn’t say anything right away, he kept going. “The file was about me. My whole life. Mom, Dad. School records, police records, even from when I was a minor. Foster homes, bank records, everything. Who even has access to that information, Buck? And the only thing that makes sense, is that Odin tried to use that, my past, to convince Loki to leave me. Something. I don’t know. I didn’t, I’m sorry, I didn’t have anyone else to talk to.”

“What was Loki’s reaction? To the file.”

“He’s worried some gossip rag will dig something up and come after me, because of him. I’ve told him I can handle it. I don’t care what they print about me.” Leaning forward onto his elbows, he tried to pull his scattered thoughts together. “We’re going out tomorrow, somewhere people will notice. Put it out there and come what may, you know? I’ll finally get a chance to wear that suit.” He didn’t have to tell Bucky which suit he meant.

“Steve,” Bucky said wearily.

“I know you don’t think he’s changed, but he has.” He knew what Bucky was thinking; they’d known each other all their lives and he knew he’d be saying the same thing if their roles were reversed. 

“How much do you really know about the guy?” Bucky's tone and question seemed perfectly reasonable. “Do you even know what he does for a living?”

Steve paused. “Well, he works for his father and he travels a lot. But I know he doesn’t like his job. I’ve asked him to quit. After this. He can find something else, go back to school, we’ll figure something out.”

“How often does he travel? Where does he go?”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Steve thought back over the past few months. Surely Loki had told him where he was going, but he couldn’t remember. There had been phone calls where he’d thought he must be in a different time zone, but there had never been anything concrete. 

“Steve?”

He pulled himself together. Loki must have told him where he was going and it just hadn’t registered. “It’s irregular, whenever Odin needs him. Lots of places, I guess.” He could hear the admission in his own voice that he didn’t really _know_. 

“Jesus, Steve.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to brush away the hurt that his best friend thought he was an idiot. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“And you’ve got nothing to prove.”

The unspoken implications stung. Bucky knew all of the insecurities that had plagued Steve growing up. He forced his mouth to move. “It’s not about that. Loki isn’t some sort of fucking trophy.”

“No, he’s just the latest in Steve Rogers’ hare-brained crusade to save the world. But Loki’s not the kind you save.”

Anger flared bright and hot in Steve’s chest. He bit down on the harsh words he wanted to say; getting lectured wasn’t why he’d picked up the phone. His temper fizzled as he realized he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d called Bucky in the first place. Maybe part of him had wanted Bucky to talk him out of it. His chest felt tight, guilt writhing in his stomach and making him nauseous. Was that it? Had he called Bucky because of subconscious doubts about his relationship with Loki?

Bucky continued, the edge fading out of his voice. “Look, I don’t know the guy so I can’t judge. What I do know about him makes me think you’re making a mistake, but there’s a lot I don’t know. There’s a lot you don’t know about him either. Maybe you need to think about that before you put on the suit.”

He chewed at his lower lip. “I looked into Asgard Industries a little, didn’t find much. Always figured he couldn’t tell me because it was confidential stuff. Like contracts or trade secrets or something.”

A pause. “I might be able to find out. Only if you want me to though.”

“It’s bad enough that Odin dug up every mistake I’ve ever made just to make sure Loki knew about them all. I don’t need you returning the favor.” He rubbed at his forehead, half wishing he’d stayed in bed. As much as he wanted to know, wanted to find whatever information would put the pieces together and help him understand Loki, it was something Odin would do and Loki would despise him for it, just as he despised Odin. “I appreciate the offer. I know you’ve got my back. I’ll just have to wait until he’s ready to tell me or it doesn’t matter anymore.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone, long enough to become uncomfortable. Finally, Bucky sighed heavily. “Did you call me to talk you into this or talk you out of it?”

Steve closed his eyes. “Did you mean what you said? At the Warehouse. About us.” The pounding of blood in his ears seemed unnaturally loud as he waited for a response. He’d never been the type to think the grass was always greener in other pastures, but he needed to close that door and know it was closed for good. 

A soft rustle came across the line before Bucky answered. “Go back to bed, Steve. You love him and, hell, maybe he loves you. If he breaks your heart or if you need a Best Man, either way, you know I’m here. ‘Til the end of the line.”

“Thanks, Buck. Good night.” He ended the call, but didn’t move. 

It was as much of an answer as he’d ever get from Bucky. There hadn’t been all that much time between ending things with Bucky and getting involved with Loki. And Loki had been a whirlwind, was still a whirlwind; as though Loki managed to create chaos simply by existing. He didn’t know if he was ready for complete strangers to know, or want to know, the intimate details of his personal life. Bracing himself, he opened up a browser on his phone and searched for Loki’s name. 

Most of what he found was old, before Loki had gone to Europe and seemed to fall off the face of the planet. He winced at some of the photographs snapped by paparazzi and the mugshots. Gossip journalism had little value and he knew there were lies and misinformation in the articles. It was sensational in a typical kind of way, as though Loki’s life had belonged to a movie or a sitcom about a hard partying playboy who eventually turned his life around. He noted that the women Loki had been with rarely rated a footnote, with the exception of Lorelei, who seemed to be on the same level of chaos as Loki himself. Many of the articles were cruel and mocking; they irritated him, but were also surreal in how far off their depiction of Loki was. At least, the Loki he knew. Then again, Loki seemed to get a particular thrill out of being impossible to pin down; he gave answers without giving away any real information about himself.

With a heavier heart than he wanted, he made tea and followed through on his promise to have painkillers out for Loki in the morning. He tried to talk himself through it, reminding himself it was natural to worry about what might happen and even natural to have doubts. Their lives would change if the press took notice of them and he couldn’t predict how, but there was potential for it to be negative and pull them apart. That was what scared him the most; that the pressure of having everyone watching them would ruin what they’d built together. But Sarah Rogers had instilled in him the belief that courage wasn’t the absence of fear; it was the determination to continue even when he was afraid. 

When he’d finished a mug of chamomile tea, it was late - or early - and he felt no less nervous about what might lie ahead, but he’d worked himself around to the hoping it would all turn out alright, somehow. If they were lucky, the press would barely notice and they could go on with their lives. If they weren’t, he figured the scrutiny would be a lot harder on Loki than it would be on him, which made it easier to put his own fear aside. 

He slipped back into bed and edged closer to Loki, who curled into him even in his sleep, shivering. Closing his eyes, he buried his face in Loki’s hair, inhaling the smell of shampoo and a hint of gin. He was going to hope for the best and trust they could handle anything that came their way.

When the alarm on his phone went off a few hours later, Loki was still pressed against him and sleeping soundly. He hit snooze twice before he was willing to pull away and get out of bed. As quietly as he could, he grabbed what clothes were easily found and headed to the bathroom. The sound of the furnace coming to life made him wonder if he should’ve left the water running in the sinks to keep the pipes from freezing. It was an old house, after all. His mind was occupied with the list of remaining winterizing chores he needed to do, so he was surprised to hear and smell coffee brewing as he left the bathroom.

He was even more surprised to see Loki in the kitchen wearing a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers; his hair was a disheveled mess of waves. Trying not to grin, he moved behind him and wrapped his arms around Loki’s waist. “Did I wake you? Sorry.”

Loki made a non-committal grunt and downed the painkillers with a swig of Gatorade. “I vaguely remember you promising to hide the gin. Please do so.”

“I don’t know.” Steve headed for the fridge, making a show of giving Loki a lewd look. “I almost got a piece of that ass, thanks to the gin.”

With a snort of laughter, Loki rolled his eyes. He leaned back against the counter, holding the bottle of Gatorade against his chest. “You would’ve gotten this ass if you didn’t have some sort of hang up about fucking me when I’ve been drinking.”

“Just want to be sure you know what you’re doing.” He dug through the fridge for bread to make toast and the carton of eggs.

“I’d like to know why it matters.” The sharp humor had left Loki’s voice and his tone was gentle now.

“Why what matters,” Steve asked absently.

“Why you feel so strongly about not having sex when I’ve been drinking. Did something happen to someone you know? Or did something happen to you?” His tone was still light and when Steve turned to look, Loki looked surprisingly alert for being hungover and not a morning person.

He busied his hands with the bread and eggs, hoping Loki would move on to another topic of conversation. When that didn’t seem likely to happen, he hoped Loki would drop it completely. With everything else - Loki had read the file, hadn’t he? - he just wanted to get through the day and come home again. Loki was still watching him after he’d dropped the bread in the toaster and started the eggs. With a sigh, he went back to the fridge for orange juice. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Is it about your father? Is that why it bothers you?”

“I’m not my dad,” Steve snapped without thinking. Then he realized that was all the answer Loki needed. “Look, he wasn’t a bad guy, okay? I don’t want you to think it was anything like…what you’re thinking. It wasn’t like that. The stuff in that file isn’t everything he was.”

Loki stopped him with a light touch, fingers just resting on his arm. “You were right. Last night, you did the right thing. Thank you.”

Steve blinked. “Oh.”

“I’m not good at asking for what I want. Especially when I’m sober.” Loki’s lips quirked into a smile. “But that’s my problem, not yours.”

He turned away to pretend to pay attention to the eggs. “Did you get up early just to talk about this?”

Loki collected his bottle of Gatorade before moving purposefully toward the coffee maker. “I'll make reservations for seven o’clock tonight.”

“My suit’s in the back of the closet.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Loki filled two mugs with coffee and took his around to the other side of the kitchen bar. “How much time do you think you can take off of work?”

“How much do you want?” Retrieving the toast, he began to assemble a sandwich. “Do you want one? I can make another, it’s no trouble.”

Loki blanched at the suggestion. “No, thank you for offering. My stomach isn’t ready for food just yet.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, wincing. “Can you take a week off? Tomorrow and all of next week?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll ask first thing and let you know.”

“Excellent. We’ll leave tonight.”

He stopped with the sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Leave?”

“It’s a surprise.”

The news report of the night Loki crashed a Ferrari into the bay sprung immediately into his mind. He forced down a swallow of sandwich, hoping his expression wasn’t giving him away. “Do I need anything specific for this surprise?”

“I’ll take care of everything.” Loki pulled his phone out of the pocket of the bathrobe and started tapping against the screen.

He tried to broach the subject of Loki’s family lightly. “If you’re right and we do end up in the papers. What will Odin do?”

“He’ll have time to calm down before I have to see him again.”

The sudden vacation snapped sharply into context; it would help put some distance and time between Loki and Odin. Steve figured they needed as much of both as they could get. 

“I intend to tell him I will no longer be working for him.”

Steve wanted to shout for joy, but Loki looked hungover enough that he wouldn’t appreciate it. “Thank you.”

“I’ll deal with him when we return.” Loki gave him a strained smile. “That being said, I’m going back to bed.” Coffee mug in hand, he came around the kitchen bar to lean in and give Steve a sleepy kiss before heading back toward the bedroom.

Steve hurried through his breakfast and tidied up the kitchen before leaving for work. No doubt the entire day would crawl by in anticipation. He tried to put it out of his mind as much as he could, focusing on the immediate present and resisting the urge to count down the hours, even the minutes, until he could put on the suit.

After he’d powered up his workstation, he made a beeline for his boss’s office to ask for a few days off. Mentally, he tallied up the projects he would need to finish up or hand over to someone else before he left. He rapped his knuckles against the nameplate on the door - _Sharon Carter_ \- before turning the door knob and letting himself in. Sharon was one of the best bosses he’d ever had and her open door policy was only one of the reasons.

She smiled as she looked up, blonde hair falling loosely around her face. “Steve, what’s up?” 

As he opened his mouth, he realized he had more than one thing to talk to her about. He closed the door behind him and pulled up a chair to the opposite side of her desk. “A couple things, actually. I’d like to take a few days off. Tomorrow and next week. Jess can handle the work while I’m gone.”

Sharon’s smile widened. “It’s about time you took a vacation. A little last minute, but we don’t have anything breathing down our necks right now. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“The other thing.” He looked down at his hands and mentally crossed his fingers. He didn’t think Sharon would care about his personal life, but negative press would reflect on her company whether she cared or not. Knowing how hard she’d worked to start her own business; the last thing he wanted was for an unintended consequence to cause trouble for her. “I hope this isn’t inappropriate to discuss with you, I just wanted you to hear it from me before anyone else.”

One eyebrow raised, she leaned back in her chair. “Alright, I’m listening.”

“I’ve been seeing someone for a while. He’s got a history of drug use, reckless behavior, and ending up in the tabloids.” He held up a hand to forestall any question she might have. “He’s clean now and he’s been keeping his head down, trying to stay out of the spotlight.”

She nodded slowly. “Are you worried about his history affecting your work?”

“Not at all. But he thinks the press will find out about us and make nuisances out of themselves. I don’t want it to come back on you in any way.”

“Would I know his name? If you want to tell me.”

“Loki Laufeyson.” He saw her eyes go wide.

“Wow. I guess opposites really do attract.” She laughed a little and shook her head. “I appreciate the heads up, Rogers. And don’t worry about it. The paparazzi are welcome to come round. I’ll be happy to hand them their asses and show them the door. You’re one of my best artists. I’ve got your back.”

“Thank you, Sharon.” He felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

“Make sure you get the Erickson project wrapped up before you go. I’m sure Jess can handle the rest. And enjoy your vacation!”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He left her office determined to get as much accomplished as he could. It would help the time pass more quickly and keep him from getting nervous about what might happen at dinner. He sent Loki a text to let him know he was good to take time off before he tried to focus on his work. 

Loki’s questions lurked at the back of his mind and kept pricking at him. In truth, he hadn’t thought too much about his reticence to have sex with Loki while he was drunk. It wasn’t right, wasn’t truly consent, and he hadn’t gone much beyond that, but Loki had made him think. He remembered all the times his mother had told him his father had been drunk, how that meant he didn’t really mean anything he’d said or done. He remembered how little that mattered because his mother suffered either way. He wasn’t his father, that much was certain, but Loki wasn’t his father either and he had to consider Loki might need the false courage, or at least the lowering of inhibitions, that came with alcohol. Maybe that was just Loki, maybe that was the only way he could ask for what he wanted. 

Before noon, he’d worked himself around to feeling guilty he hadn’t realized Loki had been asking for sex in the only way he knew how. Given his inexperience, Steve couldn’t fault him for wanting the aid of alcohol and it wasn’t that Steve didn’t understand; his first time with Bucky had involved more than a few beers. Their first several encounters had been fumbling and fueled by booze as much as teenage hormones, which should have been enough for him to understand Loki’s point of view. 

When he finally handed off the rest of his pending projects to Jess, he was surprised at how much he’d been able to get accomplished. Still riding the adrenaline high of getting so much done, his heart was racing on the drive home; he had to remind himself to slow down several times. His little house was nestled in the shadows cast by trees and surrounding buildings; they were drawn long by the setting sun and made the bright, warm light coming through the kitchen window that much sweeter. He’d hoped to get the porch in this weekend, but it would still be there when they got back.

His boots thudded against the kitchen steps. The smell of kitchen cleaner and air freshener rolling around him when he opened the door. “Loki? I’m home.” 

He turned left for the bedroom. The bed was neatly made and his suit was laid out over the end with a white shirt, black shoes sitting on the floor. One of Loki’s ties, a deep red one, was beside the jacket. As he reached down to touch the tie gingerly, the bathroom door opened behind him.

“Suitcases are already in the car,” Loki said.

Steve was smiling like a fool when he turned around. His breath caught in his throat. Loki was in black slacks with a crisp white dress shirt, his long fingers working the dark green tie around his neck into a Windsor knot. Unable to resist, Steve reached out to snag the tie with his fingers once Loki was done and pulled him in. “I am going to be dying to get you naked all through dinner.”

“Tease,” Loki said against his lips. “Go shower or we’ll be late.”

“Think we have time for a quickie?”

“No.” He laughed, shaking his head and side-stepping out of Steve’s arms. “Now go.”

“Can I order you as an appetizer?”

Loki pushed him gently toward the bathroom. “Go.” 

He hurried through a shower, but took his time in shaving and wrestling his hair into being presentable. A quick glance showed him Loki was working on his tablet in the kitchen. It felt surreal to get into the suit; the last time he’d worn it was to get fitted for a wedding that hadn’t happened. His fingers shook a little as he fastened the shirt cuffs and grabbed the tie. The dress shoes whispered over the worn floorboards.

Loki slid his tablet into a small case as he stood up. “Hungry?”

“Starving.” He hummed a little, a nonsense string of notes without a melody, and followed Loki out the kitchen door, locking it behind them. As he opened the passenger door and climbed in, he realized it was the first time he’d gotten into Loki’s Jaguar. The engine was surprisingly quiet and he felt as though he was snugly seat belted into cloud. 

“I’ve never asked, and you don’t have to answer, but did you have a reason for driving a Ferrari into the bay?”

Loki slid one arm behind Steve’s seat, turning to watch out the back window as he backed the car into the street. “It was Thor’s.” 

Steve gaped at him. He’d gotten the hint that Thor and Loki had a complicated relationship as siblings, but he was a little surprised Thor didn’t seem to hold a grudge over a wrecked Ferrari. 

“It was a gift from Odin. He’d barely put a hundred miles on it before I totaled it.” Loki glanced at him before putting both hands on the wheel and turning to watch the road. “And yes, I paid for it. In some ways, I’m still paying for it. That debt was one of the reasons I agreed to work for Odin again.”

Biting at his lip, he wondered if he dared press further. “What do you do for Odin? Did. Now that you’re quitting.” He watched Loki’s expression, caught in slices of illumination from the street lamps and traffic lights, but didn’t see any indication that Loki was irritated he'd asked.

“You know the stereotype of corporate lawyers? They ruin lives in the name of profit. It’s something like that.” Light caught on Loki’s lips as his tongue darted out to swipe over them. “I’m not a good person, Steve. Nor do I pretend to be.”

“I’m just glad you’re getting out. That’s all that matters.” 

He reached over to tangle his hand in Loki’s hair and settled his hand lightly, stroking one thumb against the side of his neck. They could work on Loki believing he was a good person once he was out of Odin’s grasp; he would work on it until Loki believed it just as much as he did. He turned his attention to the neighborhoods passing by, thinking he might see a clue of where Loki was taking him. The storefronts grew increasingly more exclusive in their clientele and the restaurants boasted more stars. 

“It’s not where I would have preferred to take you,” Loki said as he pulled up to a curbside valet. “But it will guarantee we’re seen.”

He tried to pull his attention away from the brightly lit entrance, already decorated with enormous painted ornaments and fake Christmas trees. 

“Are you certain you still want to do this? There’s no going back and I would understand if you want to change your mind.”

Steve unclipped his seatbelt. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

The door opened and he got out, thanking the valet. He waited for Loki to come around the car. The evening air was crisp with deepening winter; he caught a hint of roasting meat and the heavy, distinctive scent of the bay. Loki stepped up beside him as the valet drove the Jaguar into the parking lot. He was surprised when Loki reached down and took his hand. It was a simple gesture, but it was the first time they’d held hands in public and he had to swallow against a sudden lump in his throat. He reminded himself this was a much bigger step, socially, for Loki than it was for him.

“Is the food any good, at least?” Steve jibed, hoping to lighten the mood as they started toward the front doors. He tried not to feel self-conscious when a distinguished looking gentleman in a tuxedo that probably cost double his suit opened the door for them.

“Best steak in the city.” Loki gave a curt nod to the man holding the door.

The man gestured for them to follow. “This way, Mister Laufeyson.”

Steve leaned close enough to whisper. “Does everyone here know who you are?”

“The last time I was here was memorable.” One corner of Loki’s mouth quirked up into a smirk. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of repeating the events of that evening.”

“Did you set the building on fire?” Steve wore his best innocent look when Loki turned to look at him. 

“Do you really want to know?” 

“As long as you didn’t get caught having sex in the restroom, because I might want to keep that possibility open.” He lifted their hands up so he could kiss Loki’s knuckles and winked. 

Loki leaned in, his lips brushing against Steve’s ear. “Is that so?”

He had half a mind to push Loki up against the nearest wall right there and make this time equally _memorable_ , but didn’t want to start their first vacation together by getting kicked out of a restaurant for public indecency. That would definitely make the news. He kept his thoughts to himself and settled for stroking his thumb against the inside of Loki’s wrist while they walked. They were led to a cozy, semi-private booth large enough to hold a half dozen people. Loki slid toward the back and pulled Steve with him so they could sit side by side. Content to let Loki do the ordering - he didn’t even know what language the menu was written in, let alone know how to read it - he looked at Loki instead. Wine and bread arrived while Loki perused the menus, occasionally making comments about food pairings and explaining what the dishes contained. 

“It’s a pity they don’t have the appetizer you wanted,” Loki said, his voice low and colored by a smile.

The wine and the soft lighting were conspiring to plant seeds of recklessness in the back of Steve's mind. He pressed closer, letting his hand settle on Loki’s knee and then drift up, fingers trailing over the thin fabric of the slacks, until he could cup his hand against Loki’s crotch. “You sure?” 

Loki started a little, adjusting his grip on the menu. His legs fell open wider and his posture settled to allow Steve better access. The barest hint of color appeared high on his cheeks. “You’re in a rare mood this evening.”

“Maybe I am.” He sucked in a breath when Loki slid down against the back of the booth, legs spreading even wider and his cock a growing line beneath the fabric. It was a thrill to think that he could take Loki apart right there in the booth. Encouraged, he caught Loki’s cock through the fabric and squeezed.

“Fuck,” Loki hissed between his teeth.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Loki glared at him. “How far are you willing to take this?”

“How far are you willing to let me?” He grinned, heady with arousal and red wine.

The waiter returned to take their orders and Loki leaned forward, his focus on the menu. When Steve tried to discretely remove his hand, Loki caught his wrist under the table and held him there. Heat roiled through Steve’s stomach and chest; he adjusted the angle of his wrist so he could slide the heel of his palm along the side of Loki’s penis, feeding the growing erection. His own slacks were beginning to feel tight and he thought, maybe, this might not have been such a good idea. Then he wondered what it would be like to be this aroused all through dinner and his mouth went dry.

“We do have a few hours to drive after this,” Loki murmured after the waiter left with their orders.

“You can stop me any time.”

Loki’s sigh was almost a moan. “This is payback for keeping you up the other night, isn’t it?”

“Why would I do that?” Steve reached for the zipper of Loki’s slacks but Loki caught his hand, stopping him. 

Clearing his throat, Loki sat up straighter and began to slide toward the front of the booth. “Perhaps a visit to the restroom is a good idea after all.” 

He didn’t wait or look back to see if Steve was following him and by the time Steve managed to stumble out of the booth, Loki was already halfway across the restaurant. He hurried to catch up, hoping the mood lighting made it less obvious why he kept his jacket pulled closed at his waist. In the back of his mind, he could hear Bucky’s voice calling him an idiot and telling him this was entirely unlike him and, clearly, it was a sign that Loki was a bad influence. But he pushed open the door to the Men’s room without hesitation and followed Loki in.

It was even darker in the restroom. Shadowed against the far wall was Loki, his belt and zipper already undone and one hand pumping his cock. He looked obscene and gorgeous, legs spread wide and exposed to anyone who walked in to see. Breath caught in Steve’s throat as he closed the distance between them, all but dragging Loki into the end stall and bolting the door behind them. He gave Loki a fierce, breathless kiss, before catching the waistband of the slacks and pulling them down as he sunk to his knees. He didn’t tease or mess around, just took Loki’s cock in his mouth as deeply as he could. He focused on his breath, his throat contracting as he swallowed Loki down. 

“Oh god, Steve.” Loki’s hands dug into his hair, his hips arching up.

He cradled Loki’s balls in one hand, massaging and giving light tugs that made Loki jerk and shiver. Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth, forcing him to pull back and lick the excess from Loki’s skin. A low moan slipped through Loki’s lips and he shuddered, gripping Steve’s hair. He looked thoroughly wrecked already and Steve loved it.

“You are so beautiful.” He shifted his hand further back, half tempted to see if he could make Loki scream again. His finger brushed against something smooth and hard; it was round and a little bigger than a quarter.

“Surprise,” Loki said, his voice ragged. “Check your left jacket pocket.”

His right fingers still exploring the unexpected object, he reached into his left pocket and felt around. After a moment, he fished out a condom wrapper and what felt like a packet of lubricant. With Loki, there were always implications within implications, but his brain was too busy stuttering over the fact that Loki had been wearing a butt plug the whole time. Stuffing the items back into his pocket, he caught at the edges of the plug and tugged gently. “Do you like it? Having this inside you. Want me to leave it in?”

“Steve,” Loki gasped.

“Tell me what you want.” 

“More. I want more. Use...use your fingers.”

He worked the plug free and set it aside. Loki was already loose and slicked from the lubricant he’d used to insert the plug. He went rigid, his grip on Steve’s hair verging on painful, when Steve pressed his fingers against his hole. A moment of panic made him hesitate, afraid that Loki was still too tight, but he heard Loki whimper and his hips began to make shallow, jerky thrusts. A second later, his grip on Steve’s hair vanished and, when Steve looked up, Loki’s head was back against the tile, his hands splayed open at his sides. It was all the encouragement he needed to begin pumping his fingers, scissoring and working to loosen him up even further. Loki gasped, back arched, and lifted one leg to brace himself against the toilet seat. The change in position also spread his legs and Steve took advantage of it, swallowing Loki’s cock deeply enough he had to hold his breath while curling his fingers, pressing and searching for what would bring the most pleasure. Loki choked out a strangled cry, his body going taut. Steve swallowed, pulling back to get a breath, and tasted semen on the back of his tongue. He let Loki settle, running his hands up and down his legs and nuzzling against his stomach.

“I want you,” Loki whispered, still sounding breathless. “Will you? Do you still want to?”

“Turn around, baby.” 

He caught the back of Loki’s shirt and jacket, pushing them up as Loki turned. Rather than get straight to it, he ran one hand admiringly over Loki’s ass. Leaning in, he touched his tongue against the already sensitized flesh and Loki moaned at the contact. He kept going, alternating between lapping his tongue over the ridge of flesh and dipping it in as far as he could, until he could feel Loki shivering. His knees complained from being on the hard tile when he straightened up. He undid the zipper of his slacks and let the slick fabric fall down around his ankles. He wasn’t going to last long, that was for sure, and he hoped the condom would help him hold out. His fingers shook as he rolled the latex down and covered himself with lube. Easing forward, he wondered when Loki’s recklessness had started to wear off on him, but that thought fell apart as heat and pressure wrapped around his cock. Pushing the jacket and shirt further up Loki’s back, he tried to steady himself and take it slow, but his self-control was crumbling by the second. Loki braced one arm against the wall, hips pressing back against Steve until he was bottomed out.

“You’re so tight. Fuck. Oh my god, Loki. You feel so good. So fucking good,” he babbled, barely remembering to keep his voice down. “How does it feel? You like my dick inside you?” He let one hand rest lightly on the small of Loki's back and wished there was light enough for him to see the expression on Loki’s face. Panic sliced through the haze of lust fogging up his mind, reminding him this was Loki’s first time being on the receiving end of anal sex and it should’ve been better - he should’ve made sure it was better - than up against a bathroom wall. 

“Don’t stop,” Loki moaned softly, his voice strained.

He kept one hand moving over Loki’s back and hips and bit his lip to keep from moaning, not that anyone who walked in wouldn’t be able to put two and two together. He wrapped his arms around Loki and pulled him against his chest, silently asking for a kiss. One of Loki’s hands settled against the back of his head; long fingers dug into his hair and neck as Loki arched into him. 

“You taste like wine,” Loki breathed, the words lost in a tumble of small gasps and soft sighs. 

“How does it feel?” 

“It's intense.” 

“Am I hurting you at all?”

Loki’s hair rustled against his collar as he shook his head. “You’re taking your sweet time though.” The smirk was audible.

“Very funny.” But he took the point and sped up his rhythm, letting Loki slip away to lean against the wall again. It felt surreal when he looked down, running one hand over the pale curve of Loki’s ass and watching each thrust with rapt attention; the roll of the condom just visible in the dim light. This was pretty high on the list of things he never thought he’d do - it was about five of them, actually - and he was dizzy with the recklessness of it. Part of him wanted to draw it out and wring every ounce of pleasure from the experience, but they’d already been in the men’s room long enough to raise eyebrows.

Tension began to coil up inside him like a spring. His fingernails caught against the tile, fumbling for Loki’s hand. Biting down on his lower lip kept him focused on staying quiet when he wanted to cry out. He crested over the edge, eyes squeezing shut, and came back down slowly, sagging forward. He resisted the need to leave, drawing out what he’d meant to be a quick kiss against Loki’s back. 

“Guess I can cross sex in a bathroom stall off my bucket list.” 

Loki pushed his hair back from his face, trying to straighten the curls that had grown wild. “What else is on your list?” 

With one last kiss, Steve disentangled their limbs, flushed the condom, and righted their clothes. There were wrinkles in Loki’s dress shirt and jacket; it was equally as sexy as the crisp, polished look and he half wanted to ask if they could get dinner To Go. “It’s a pretty long list. Sure you want to hear them all?” 

“Absolutely.” Loki grinned; the dim light gave him a Cheshire cat mask of teeth and green eyes. He tucked his shirt into his slacks before picking up the butt plug and carefully wrapping it in toilet paper before slipping it into a jacket pocket.

“I’ve never seen the Eiffel Tower. Up close. There’s one.” He headed for the sinks, letting Loki fix his shirt collar while he washed his hands. “Lots of places I haven’t seen. That’s probably half the list right there. Go someplace new, explore, live. What about you? Do you have a bucket list?”

“Didn’t see the point, before. Never thought I’d see thirty five.” Loki shook water from his hands before reaching for a towel.

 _Before_. “And now?”

Loki caught Steve’s hand, an affectionate smile lingering on his lips. “I can think of a few things I’d like to look forward to. Starting with,” he leaned in to catch Steve’s lower lip between his teeth, “doing that again.”

“Oh,” he coughed. “It was…I mean…it was okay?”

With a laugh, Loki pulled him toward the restroom door. “You have my permission, my willing and enthusiastic permission, to fuck me every night for the rest of my life.”

The implications of _the rest of his life_ kept Steve tongue-tied and holding tight to Loki’s hand as they wove their way through the maze of tables. He slid into the booth after Loki and barely had time to reach for his neglected glass of wine before the waiter arrived with a tray bearing their meals. Conversation was casual as they ate, though he noticed Loki initiated physical contact more than usual. He wasn’t sure if his head was spinning from the wine or from having Loki’s hands on him in way that was decidedly and unmistakably possessive. His meal was delicious; Loki ordered a second bottle of wine and dessert. Everything was comfortably warm and he was buzzing with alcohol and sugar by the time Loki lead the way back out into the winter chilled night to wait for the valet.

“I’m glad you talked me into this.” Steve let his head loll against Loki’s neck. “Even if I can’t believe we just did that. Any of that.”

“The best is yet to come,” Loki murmured.

“You’re setting the bar pretty high.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “You doubt my ability to deliver?”

The valet had the poor timing - or excellent timing - to pull up to the curb a moment later. Steve let go of Loki and didn’t argue as he slid into the passenger seat. He relaxed against the leather, drowsy with the meal and the wine, and felt himself drifting off as the voices from the radio blurred into nonsense. He came awake with a start sometime later, blinking and rubbing at his eyes; he realized he was no longer moving and Loki wasn't in the car. It was dark and the only light other than the moon was coming from an unfamiliar house in front of him. Fumbling for the car door, he got out and looked around. A moment later the trunk of the Jaguar closed with a thud and he saw Loki pulling the strap of a duffel bag up over his head. 

“You should’ve woken me up.” He stifled a yawn as he headed for the suitcases. He could smell salt water and his ears caught the faint sound of waves. “Where are we?”

“This was Frigga’s. It's mine now.”

His brain wasn’t nearly functional enough to handle the layers of meaning in Loki’s answer, so he merely picked up what luggage he could carry and motioned for Loki to lead the way.

The home was strikingly modern. All of the angles were sharp and unconventional, but once inside, there was a sense of home and comfort at odds with the stark architectural style. He followed Loki to the master bedroom. Two of the four walls were floor to ceiling glass, opening up the space to a broad view of the ocean below them. He could see moonlight reflected on the crests of incoming waves. 

“It’s private beach for miles in both directions,” Loki informed him. He hoisted the suitcases onto the bed and began to unpack, moving the contents into the walk-in closet.

Feeling superfluous, Steve made himself comfortable on the bed. “It’s amazing.”

“This was where she came to get away from Odin and Asgard.”

Steve already knew he’d love it and it meant _everything_ that Loki had brought him to the place his mother had come to find peace. He pretended not to notice when Loki dropped a bottle of lubricant and an unopened pack of condoms into the top drawer of his bedside table. There’d been no reason for him to complain about their sex life before, but he wasn’t going to argue if Loki wanted to take it up a notch. He could already imagine waking up beside Loki in this bed, the sound of the ocean rousing him, and this was definitely heaven.

“You look almost comfortable.” Loki settled onto the bed beside him.

“Almost?”

“You’re still dressed.”

He turned his head to look at Loki. Their life was going to change now, for better or for worse, and they couldn’t predict which way it would go. “Whatever happens next, I hope I’m worth it.”

Loki rolled closer, sliding his fingers between the buttons of Steve’s dress shirt. “You are.” 

“I hope we’re worth it,” Steve amended.

“We are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

Steve caught Loki’s hand before he could start unbuttoning his shirt, weaving their fingers together. “Do you think anyone in the restaurant guessed that we were…you know.”

“Probably.” 

He pulled Loki close and decided not to care what happened next. “Good.”


	8. Chapter 8

A steaming mug smelling gloriously of fresh coffee dropped down on the side of Bucky's workspace. He spared a glance and saw Coulson, his own coffee mug in hand.

"Find anything?" Coulson craned his neck to get a look at the files strewn over Bucky's desk.

"Not yet." Bucky leaned back in his chair to stretch his back and reached for the coffee. "Thanks. This is a needle in a haystack. Only the haystacks full of needles."

"We have an entire department for this kind of thing. Computers, databases. Why not use the Table?"

"Call me old fashioned."

Coulson dragged the chair from the nearest desk over and took a seat. "Walk me through what you've got."

"Where do I start?" He raked his fingers through his hair. "Normal people have a few skeletons here and there. This guy? There's so much dirt on him, that's all I can find. If I were looking for dirt, that'd be one thing, but I don't know what I'm looking for anymore." Motioning to the brown banker's box on the corner of the desk, he shrugged. "The guys downstairs pulled what travel information they could from TSA records, flight reservations, customs, et cetera."

"It's a good place to start."

He pushed back from the desk and moved around to the box to start through its contents. There was already a large map of the world up on the wall behind him and he figured he could stick pins in locations as he went. Black for known hits by their ghost and red for confirmed travel locations for Loki Laufeyson. "Found one strange thing though."

"Oh?"

"His mother." He glanced up from the box. "I assume that's why you're here. When I tried to follow up on her, I got an access denied error. Probably set off a trip wire or two just by looking."

Coulson's expression remained neutral, as always. "She was SHIELD. She retired to start a family, went into the private sector, and co-founded Asgard Industries with her husband, Odin."

"But SHIELD still kept a file on her."

“SHIELD doesn’t lose track of agents, even former ones. It’s as much for their protection as SHIELD’s. In this line of work, you make enemies.”

"Is there any connection between her and the murdered agents?"

The barest hint of a smile appeared on Coulson's face. "Let's just say you stumbled on a mystery. Here. I'll help." Setting the coffee mug aside, he picked up the box of pins and the file on their ghost. "When you started looking into Loki, I looked through his mother's file. Wasn't expecting to find anything."

"But you did." 

"There's an anomaly in her medical records." Coulson squinted as he stuck a pin into the city of Prague. "According to everything SHIELD has, she only gave birth once, to her son Thor. There's no record of a second pregnancy."

"Adoption?"

"No record of that either."

"Maybe it was an illegal adoption. Black market?"

"Maybe. Whoever Loki really is and where he came from, she buried it where SHIELD can't find it. Not easily done, but if anyone could do it, it would've been her."

Bucky considered the implications of information not even SHIELD could find while he scanned over the fight record in his hand. He picked up the box of red pins, a stack of Post-It notes, and a marker. The first pin went into Johannesburg and he wrote down the travel dates on a Post-It beside the pin. It was a long shot that Loki's travel itinerary would line up with known hits, but he had to try.

"What's the connection to the murdered agents," he asked, realizing Coulson had dodged the question.

"One of our strike teams has been targeted and nearly wiped off the map. We don't know why. Coincidentally, SHIELD keeps a log of every time a personnel record is accessed. The station access code, agent ID, as much information as possible, it's all added to a metadata file associated with every personnel record. As it turns out, the team member's records were accessed almost four years ago by someone outside SHIELD. Someone using Frigga Laufeyson's old credentials. I've got the techs running down what other files were updated or viewed around that time."

Bucky let out a low whistle. "You don't think Asgard's behind this, do you?"

"SHIELD and Asgard may not always be on the same side but there's never been outright hostility. No reason to take shots at each other now. At least, no reason that I know of." He glanced over his shoulder. "I know this is personal for you, Barnes."

"This isn't me being a jealous ex, Coulson."

"That wasn't what I meant."

The Kabul mission hadn't been a case of a murdered SHIELD agent, just a competing asset in the field. Only one of the bullets recovered from the rooftop where he and Coulson had been pinned down had been intact enough to confirm it was one of the same, untraceable rounds. When he let himself wonder how many more bullets might be out there, how many more hits they hadn't identified, he usually woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. 

Bucky turned his focus back to the map, resisting the urge to touch his prosthetic arm. Maybe the first year, he'd wanted nothing more than to find the killer who'd cost him a limb, but he'd gotten over it. While the state-of-the-art SHIELD prosthetic would never replace his lost arm, it had its own advantages. 

He stuck a pin into Sacramento, California and paused, thinking about the timing. "Did something happen four years ago?"

"Frigga Laufeyson was diagnosed with breast cancer."

Bucky didn't like the picture coming together. There were too many questions and he was starting to feel like a rat in a maze, finding only the crumbs of cheese he was meant to find. There were also far more red pins on the map than black pins. If Loki was their ghost, they'd vastly underestimated the number of people he'd killed. 

"What are you going to do if it is him?" Coulson placed the last black pin.

"I don't know." 

How to tell Steve was only the tip of the iceberg. There would be no way to convince Steve of Loki's true identity without giving away his own as a SHIELD agent. That was a sure way to open up old wounds. He'd chosen a career with SHIELD and that had been his choice. This life wasn't what Steve wanted and he'd known that when he signed up. He also knew Steve would've put on a brave face and say it was all okay, but he'd still be left at home waiting for a phone call from SHIELD telling him Bucky would be coming home in a body bag, if at all. It wouldn't have been fair to Steve. At least, that's what he'd told himself every day, and every night, since he'd walked out the door.

There was also the fact that, if he was right, Loki was incredibly dangerous. Tipping his hand might result in Steve ending up in a grave. He had no doubt Loki would do anything to prevent being exposed and, with Asgard behind him, his resources would be nearly limitless. His best option would be to catch Loki off guard, if that was even possible, and simply make him disappear. It would break Steve's heart, but that was better than Steve ending up dead.

"If this is some sort of unfinished business." He took a step back to pull more files from the box. "We need to know why. There could be a lot more SHIELD agents with targets on their backs."

"This is bigger than your friend's love life now."

He didn't respond. The sinking feeling in his stomach was knowing exactly what Coulson was going to say next. 

"Why don't you stick around the old home town awhile? Visit some friends."

"Subtle, Coulson," he said sourly. His stomach twisted as he remembered the sounds of sex coming from Steve's bedroom. He was jealous, sure; he would been inhuman not to be jealous. It was only when he'd seen Garrett's picture gallery of dogs that his jealousy had morphed into fear.

"It's possible he made you too."

"No way he's _that_ good."

Coulson gave him a sideways look. "But you are?"

"He slipped up."

"Or you're wrong."

Motioning to map on the wall, he met Coulson's gaze with a challenge. "Maybe. But if SHIELD doesn't know who Loki really is and his mother was tracking SHIELD agents, there's something here we need to figure out." 

"There's nothing linking Loki to Garrett." Coulson settled a black pin in upstate Michigan. There was a conspicuous lack of a red pin.

"He was out of town that weekend. Steve said he'd just gotten back and Michigan's within driving distance." He thought of the black Jaguar he'd seen parked behind Steve's motorcycle. Loki wouldn't have taken such an obvious car; he would've either taken a car belonging to Asgard Industries or a rental. It was likely he'd paid cash for the car and wherever he'd stayed, leaving no easily followed trail behind; that didn't mean there wasn't any trail at all. 

Bucky picked up one of the photographs of Loki; it was a mug shot and Loki looked bored. Even without the Jaguar, Loki would be memorable. He was tall and handsome in a way that would single him out. He only had to find one waitress or one hotel clerk who might remember seeing someone out of the ordinary.

"Barnes?"

Taking one of the red pins, Bucky stuck Loki's picture onto the map in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. "He's got no MO, no favorite weapon. He's adaptive, uses whatever method and means works for the particular hit. He does his research, changes his strategy to fit the environment."

"His mother was one of SHIELD's best. Stories were that no one could anticipate the enemy like she could. As though she knew what they'd do before they did."

He chewed at his lower lip for a second. "She trained him. Must have. Maybe that's why his adoption was off the books. Maybe they got him just for this. To be a weapon. An orphan maybe. Someone nobody would miss." 

It was a terrifying thought; Steve - sweet, compassionate Steve - in love and living with a cold-blooded killer who'd been raised from infancy to be an assassin. Fear settled in the back of his throat, cold and bitter. How could Steve not see it? If Loki was _that_ good at deception; at lying; at pretending to be anything but a monster, then he must have a tactical reason for being with Steve in the first place. He thought of Steve's late night phone call and wondered if it had been Loki digging up Steve's past, not Odin. Presenting it as Odin's doing gave Steve and Loki a common enemy, a move designed to reinforce Steve's loyalty. But he still couldn't see what Loki got out of pretending to be with Steve, except the obvious perks. 

"How the hell did he get away with it?" Coulson leaned against the edge of the desk, arms folded and chin against the back of his knuckles. "There are paparazzi photos of him grabbing coffee at Starbucks; his whole life is on TMZ. How is it no one saw anything or caught anything on camera?"

"Who's going to look past the sex, drugs, and rock and roll? Everyone wrote him off as a hard partying, spoiled rich kid, never bothered to look any deeper."

Coulson frowned, shaking his head. "If there is a connection to Asgard, either this was the con of the century or he's just a puppet and we're chasing a dead end. Maybe he's not our ghost, maybe he's a fall guy. Someone Asgard can write off if they need to. Someone expendable."

He tapped the photo against the desk. "Can SHIELD get DMV records? I need to know what vehicles are registered to Asgard Industries." The more he thought about it, a rental was a more likely option. If Loki had taken a car that could be traced to Asgard, he would've been under the cover of official Asgard business and, like the rest of his well-documented business trips, there would've been a considerable paper trail. 

"I'll see what I can find. And Barnes?" 

"Yeah?"

"Be careful. Even if you're wrong, you do not want to go to war against Asgard."

**

The shrill chirp of an alarm woke Steve from a deep sleep. He fumbled as he tried to remember where he’d put his phone so he could pulverize it. As his mind came awake, he realized there was a second, equally annoying sound in the room. He felt Loki moving on the bed. His fingers closed around the offending phone just as the sound stopped. With a frown, he realized it had been ringing and he had fourteen missed calls; most of them were from Natasha. Behind him, the second ringing sound was cut short.

“That was fast.” Loki chuckled mirthlessly. He left the bed, completely naked and making no attempt to cover up.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed appreciatively, momentarily forgetting his phone as he watched Loki walk. “I hope you’re planning on coming back to bed.”

Loki flashed him a grin over his shoulder. He scooped up the remote control for the television on the wall opposite the bed and returned, slipping back under the covers to curl against Steve’s side. “I simply thought you might want to see how well your plan succeeded.” 

The television sprung to life and Loki cycled through stations, looking for one airing an early morning news show. It wasn’t long before a picture of them standing outside the restaurant flashed up on the screen. Loki’s arms were around Steve’s waist and Steve was leaning in for a kiss; they looked oblivious to anyone else on the Earth. Steve hadn’t even realized anyone had been there to take a picture

“That’s a good picture of us, think we can get a copy?” He wrapped his arm around Loki’s shoulders and pressed a quick kiss against his temple because he could see Loki’s irritation in the set of his lips. He paid attention, but only barely, as the show hosts went through the obvious points and questions. 

Where had Loki been and why had he been out of the public eye? There was a montage of clips, photos, and headlines from Loki’s past, even a few mugshots. They recounted the failed engagement to Lorelei and the Ferrari in the bay. Once they’d rehashed everything they felt was salient, they dived into wholesale speculation. Had Loki always been gay? Who was the man he’d been seen with? After a while, it was clear the talking heads were more interested in seeing what trouble Loki would get into than whether or not he was happy and in love.

Loki switched off the television. “They’ll have your name by close of business. They’ll start following you, shouting questions and insults trying to get a reaction from you. They’ll dig through the trash and bribe your friends and distant cousins to give them information, or they'll simply make something up. Once it starts, it will probably take two or three months for them to ease off, maybe longer.” 

“Wow.” He stared at the dark screen, still feeling as though this wasn't actually his life and it had just been an actor who looked like him. “I knew you weren’t kidding but I didn’t really know what to expect. Do you ever get used to it? People talking about you like you’re some sort of commodity and they all want to carve off a slice of you so they can sell it.”

“Used to it, no. But it gets easier to ignore. If we’re boring, they’ll give up and go after someone else. Eventually.”

“I’m good with being boring.” He leaned his head against Loki’s. “How about we leave the TV off while we’re here? And maybe our phones too." Gently, Steve drew patterns down the back of Loki’s arm. “We’ll get through this, together. For now, we've got a week ahead of us with nothing to worry about and nothing to do.”

"Nothing to do?" Smirking, Loki turned his face to nuzzle the side of Steve's neck, leaving feather light kisses along the line of his throat.

"I'd be up for staying in bed a bit longer. Maybe with coffee though." He could hear the ocean in the distance and the idea of a walk along the beach was a pleasant one. The night before, he'd barely been lucid enough to take in his surroundings. "What do you want for breakfast? Do we need to go pick anything up?"

Loki huffed, but he was smiling when he pulled away. "I can see I won't be getting any until you're fed."

"You wore me out last night." Steve ogled Loki shamelessly when he left the bed to get dressed. His neck cracked as he sat up and stretched, working out tension that had settled into his shoulder from having his arm around Loki. He caught the boxers and pair of jeans Loki threw onto the bed for him, raising an eyebrow at the lack of a shirt. "You want me to walk around shirtless?"

Loki merely shrugged. "Call me shallow."

"It's the middle of winter."

"Should we go outside, I will allow you to wear more clothes." Loki tugged a soft vee-neck over his head before he came around the bed to Steve's side, bending down to kiss him on the lips.

"You know those vee necks drive me crazy."

"Do they?" Long fingers trailed down Steve's chest. "I had no idea."

"Uh huh. Breakfast first. We are on vacation and we are not spending the entire week in bed, as tempting as that sounds." He nipped playfully at Loki's lower lip. "I want to see the beach and throw rocks at the ocean and maybe go wander around whatever town is nearby, holding your hand. We're going to take cheesy pictures, buy overpriced mochas, and stop in every little antique store we can find. Just because. There is a town or something, right? We're not out in the middle of nowhere. I was kind of asleep on the drive last night."

"Never fear, civilization isn't far away. And it is suitably quaint and picturesque, though the price tags at the antique stores might turn your hair gray." Loki pulled away and started for the door. "I'll get the coffee started."

Humming a nonsense tune, he stopped to wet his fingers in the bathroom sink and run them through his hair, trying to tame some of the spikes, before padding down the hall in search of Loki. Now awake, he had a greater appreciation for the beach house. The view that met him at the end of the hall was a wall of blue-gray skies and the ocean horizon. It drew him in, right up to the glass doors leading to a spacious deck. The waterline was at least a quarter mile away and he could see steps leading down the small bluff to the sand. Furniture, a fire pit, and a large grill area had been covered and winterized. His breath fogged the glass, the chill of winter seeping through and making his skin turn gooseflesh. 

"You're welcome to start the fire. It's not real, but it'll have to do," Loki called from somewhere behind him.

"This view is amazing." 

He dragged himself away from the glass doors and looked around. The area was open, with a three sided fireplace jutting out between the kitchen and the living room. It looked like something out of a magazine; white cabinets, white marble countertops with deep black and green veins running through it. There were deep sofas upholstered in what looked like a beige linen and strewn with blankets and furs. The color scheme was a range of blues, creams, and grays, with a darker slate anchoring the space. He looked it over critically before focusing in on the controls for the fireplace.

"Do you approve?" Loki set out a cutting board before returning to the refrigerator.

"It's gorgeous. Did your mom do the decorating?"

"Probably. If you count selecting fabric swatches and signing checks as doing the decorating. I didn't know about this place until after her death." 

"If she did, then she had a good eye and very good taste." He glanced toward the kitchen, trying to catch Loki's expression. There was genuine affection in his voice when he talked about his mother, a stark contrast to the bitterness when he spoke of his father. Someday, he wanted to ask about Loki's adoption and whether or not he'd ever considered searching out his biological parents, but it could wait. 

"She was an exceptional woman in many ways," Loki said softly.

"Were you close?" He pressed a combination of buttons and was rewarded with a line of flames appearing within the enclosed fireplace. Despite the barrier, he could feel heat radiating out into the room.

"I suppose. Once."

Circling around Loki, he checked the coffee, which was coming out of a machine that looked complicated enough to launch a rocket, and wrapped his arms loosely around Loki's waist. He nuzzled the soft cotton of Loki's shirt. "I should've made you a deal. If I'm shirtless, you should be too."

"That might have led to fucking on the kitchen floor rather than cooking breakfast."

"Mmm. After breakfast?"

"Make yourself useful. Mugs are in the cupboard to the right of the sink and knives are on the counter. There are peppers that need dicing."

He let go reluctantly. "I'm rethinking this whole concept of getting out of bed." 

"Going out was your idea. You wanted to see the ocean, go antique-ing."

"Antique-ing?" 

"If you're going to be an ass, I can think of better uses for your mouth."

Trying not to smile, he collected a carton of eggs, cheese, a chunk of sliced ham, and a couple red peppers from the fridge to go with the onions Loki was working on. "How is there even food? Did you come out before we got here?"

"There's a service in town that provides grocery delivery. I called ahead."

Loki directed him to the frying pans and cooking spray, then started on the peppers while he diced up the ham. It felt good to move around the kitchen together, cooking and chopping, and he was grinning by the time they settled down at the bar side with plates and steaming mugs of coffee.

"I applied to a graduate program," Loki commented after swallowing a mouthful of omelet. He didn't look up from his plate.

"That's great! Business?"

Loki nodded and reached for his coffee. "And finance. It's a two year program, with nights and weekend classes as an option. That way, I could still find something during the day."

"Don't kill yourself working too hard. If you want to just do school for a while, we'll figure it out." He rubbed a hand over Loki's back, pressing his thumb into the spot behind his shoulder blade where he always seemed to get knots. "As long as it's what you want to do."

"It's a start." Loki glanced sideways at him. "Odin will have certain terms. For leaving Asgard."

The undercurrent of fear in Loki's voice caught Steve by surprise, so he didn't respond, just kept rubbing Loki's back and hoped that said enough. No doubt it would take an army of psychiatrists to unravel the complicated inter-workings of Loki's family, possibly for his relationship with his father alone. Odin sounded distant and difficult, not to mention cruel in small, subtle ways. Steve wondered if he was a man who could never truly leave his professional persona at home, forever the CEO both in the boardroom and on the playground.

"Now that I've killed the mood." Loki shook his head and reached for his coffee. "Antique-ing is probably a good idea. Is there anything you want to look for?"

"Maybe a set of real bedside tables for home. Something unusual. Do you care if they match? I like the eclectic look, but one of them will be yours and if you prefer matching, that's fine with me." His mind was trying to estimate the amount of space they had to work with on both sides of the bed and he wished he'd thought to get out a tape measure. When he realized Loki hadn't responded and was simply staring at him over his coffee mug, he cleared his throat. "Did you want another omelet? I'll make more if you want."

Loki shook his head, lips turning up in a small, enigmatic smile. He sipped at his coffee.

"What is it? I feel like I've got something in my teeth."

Standing, Loki started clearing the empty dishes. "I'll get the dishes going while you finish getting dressed." 

He didn't argue. Instead, he wandered back to the bedroom. He glanced at his phone once before setting it to charge, choosing not to check any of his messages or voicemails. If Loki was right, he could probably start deleting them unread and it wouldn't be a loss. Sitting down on the end of the bed to put on socks and shoes, he wondered if the media would be as unkind to him as they'd been to Loki. There was a sliver of gratitude his mother wasn't alive to see this; she wouldn't have tolerated any untruths perpetuated by the press. Wistfully, he stared out at the ocean, thinking over how much of his life he hadn't been able to share with her.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Starting, he saw Loki leaning against the doorframe and pulled himself back into the present. He laced up his tennis shoes briskly. "Thinking about my mom. What she'd say about all this."

"Oh?"

"She didn't think much of the news to begin with. Seeing me in it would've gotten me a lecture about letting it go to my head." He searched out his wallet and tucked it into his back pocket. "Ready? Did you grab my coat before we left? How cold is it?"

"Your coat is in the front closet. It is still quite cold." Loki stayed still, his expression inscrutable.

Puzzled by the strange mood Loki seemed to be in, he crossed to the door and tugged him into the bedroom. "Everything okay?" 

"Fine, fine."

"Do you hate the idea of antique-ing? We don't have to do that. It was just a possibility."

Loki shook his head, waving off Steve's concern. "You're right, we need something other than those chairs."

“And?" he prompted.

Visibly hesitating, a bit of red crept into Loki's cheeks. "I don't know how to ask. What to ask for."

"Do you want me to start guessing?"

"It's not-"

"Is it a kinky S and M thing? It's okay if it is."

"God, no. Steve."

"You weren't serious about a threesome with Bucky, were you? 'Cause if you were..."

Loki's eyes flashed. "Oh, I bet you'd like that."

Grinning, he caught Loki's shoulders and met his gaze squarely. "Alright, so it's not whips and chains or a threesome with my ex who threatened to kill you. And I haven't freaked out about either of those ideas so whatever you're refusing to say can't be that bad."

"You're impossible." Loki rolled his eyes. His lips twitched as though he was trying not to smile.

"Is that a definite no on the threesome then?"

Loki groaned, shaking his head. "Impossible."

"Antique-ing can wait until tomorrow." He slid his hands down Loki's arms and tugged him forward. "Let's go back to bed. How are you feeling? After last night."

With a sly smile, Loki allowed himself to be led back to the bed. "Are you asking because you'd like to do that again?"

"God, yes." He pulled Loki in until he was forced to fall forward and nearly tumbled into Steve's lap. Rather than stay off balance, Loki climbed onto the bed to straddle Steve's legs, leaning in so his breath brushed against the side of his neck. "I'm open to other ideas too. Last night was amazing, but we were a little rushed. We've got plenty of time now, we can take it nice and slow." He punctuated his words by sliding his hands up to grip Loki's ass. 

Loki hummed low in his throat. "I thought you wanted to see the beach."

Twisting to the side, Steve tipped Loki over and onto his back, pressing in and grinding up against him. "I can see the beach from here." He grinned against Loki's throat, feeling the vibrations when Loki laughed. 

Fingers dancing along Loki's sides, he pushed the hem of the t-shirt up to reach bare skin and then took his time kissing Loki's stomach, teasing lightly with his tongue. He went as low as he could without removing clothing, tugging the waist of Loki's jeans down with one hand but not undoing the button or zipper, and savoring every jolt and quiver of muscle beneath his lips. When he started back up, Loki's thighs clamped against his sides and held him in place.

"Patience is a virtue," he murmured against Loki's skin.

"I lack virtuous qualities." One hand dug into Steve's hair while the other gripped Steve's shoulder, pushing him back down toward Loki's crotch, but not hard enough that Steve couldn't resist.

"Not true." 

Sliding his arms beneath Loki as though he meant to scoop him up, he wrapped his hands around the back of Loki's neck and used the grip for leverage. It had another benefit; Loki held a lot of tension in his neck and shoulders and the pressure of his fingers earned him a positively indecent moan of pleasure. That gave him an idea. He pulled away, hands going straight to the button and zipper of Loki's jeans.

Loki grinned, tongue catching briefly between his teeth. "That's better." 

"Take your shirt off. On your stomach, head toward the top of the bed." He went for the bedside table to retrieve the lube and condoms, tossing them onto the bed beside Loki. "I'll be right back."

"What are you...?"

Heading back down the hallway to the kitchen, he found the bottle of olive oil on the second try and returned to the bedroom. Loki was sitting naked on the bed, one hand playing lightly over his swollen cock. The look Loki was giving him bordered on suspicion. 

He set the olive oil aside before beginning to strip off his own clothes. "Don't you trust me?"

With a moment's hesitation, Loki turned and laid down on his stomach. There was a long sitting bench at the end of the bed and, just as Steve had suspected, it was the perfect height for what he had in mind. He slid his hands up the back of Loki's thighs, shifting and prompting him until he was in the right position. Loki was almost kneeling, his legs spread wide for Steve to kneel between them, while the bed supported most of his weight. He glanced back, eyebrow raised skeptically, when he heard the bottle of olive oil click open.

Steve filled his palm with oil to let it warm and carefully closed and set aside the bottle. Satisfied that it wouldn't be a jolt of cold, he drizzled the oil up and along Loki's back, letting it drip down his fingers before he flattened his hands against Loki's lower back and pressed. He focused on smooth, even strokes along Loki's spine, pivoting his hands at the heels when he reached Loki's shoulders and then starting back down. The benefit for him, of course, was that each upward stroke brought his cock against the swell of Loki's ass.

"Oh sweet Jesus," Loki groaned.

He focused on finding every single point of resistance, every knot of muscle, in Loki's back. One by one, he pressed and massaged until he felt the tension release beneath his fingers. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his skin by the time he reached Loki's shoulders. It was harder to concentrate the higher he went; his cock ached between his legs, pressing against Loki's ass. As he started on Loki's neck, digging his thumbs into the tendons, Loki nearly came off the bed. 

"Fuck," Loki panted. "Goddamn it, Steve. Fuck."

He'd guessed correctly that releasing the tension Loki seemed to constantly hold in his neck would get a reaction and before he could continue working on Loki's neck, Loki ground back against him and nearly knocked him off the bench. His hands went to Loki's hips and he realized Loki was shivering.

"Easy, easy," he soothed, rubbing slow circles over Loki's back. "You want me inside you?"

The answer was muffled by the comforter. "Yes, fuck, yes."

He brushed a thumb against Loki's asshole and was rewarded with another lascivious moan. He kept his touch light and teasing while he fumbled for a condom, reluctant to pull his hands away even the moments it took to roll the condom down over his cock. 

Lube glistened on his fingers and he was surprised at how easily two fingers slid into Loki's ass. Still, he went slow, twisting and scissoring his fingers and ignoring Loki's demands for more. When he thought Loki was about to come apart, he eased his fingers out and leaned forward to kiss between Loki's shoulder blades. He reached up with his right hand to grip the back of Loki's neck and dragged his thumb up to press against the base of his skull. At the same time, he circled the base of his cock with his left hand. Muscles tightened around his cock as he began to edge into Loki's body. 

This would be the tricky part. He had to adjust his knees slightly wider to get stabilized. Loki's back was still slick with olive oil and it was agonizing bliss to sink into his ass while at the same time sweeping both hands up, thumbs parallel to Loki's spine. Once he had the rhythm down, he could grip Loki's shoulders at the top and pull Loki down, burying his cock as deep as he could go with each stroke. Loki was still quivering, but Steve noticed he had a white knuckle grip on the comforter.

"You okay," he asked breathlessly, easing back and letting his hands rest on Loki's hips again. "Loki?"

"It's fine, I'm alright." His voice was strained.

Steve swore under his breath as he pulled out. "I hurt you, fuck, I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

Rolling onto his back, Loki pushed up on the heels of his palms and cocked his head to the side, smiling wryly. "I am fine. It was unexpected, that's all. Caught me off guard."

"I'm so sorry."

"I'll forgive you if you stop apologizing and get back to fucking me." He dropped back onto the bed, letting his legs fall open.

"Please tell me if I ever hurt you. Say something, tell me to stop, call me a jerk. Please." Giving in the urge to wrap his arms around Loki and hold him, Steve buried his face against Loki's chest. His horror was eased, slightly, by the fact that Loki was still hard against his stomach, but he felt like a complete jackass.

"You're kind of killing the moment here. I am _fine_."

"Why don't we switch?" 

Loki's legs locked behind his back. "I want you to keep going. I want your cock in my ass. _Now._ Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." 

He caught Loki's lips in a kiss, wet and open mouthed with more tongue than lips. As they kissed, he shifted enough to get a hand between them and encourage his flagging erection. He kept kissing Loki, breaking only to breathe. It was tempting to rush, but he was determined to make good on his promise of nice and slow. 

"Steve," Loki breathed out between kisses. He grabbed Steve's ass, trying to pull them closer together. 

"Wish I'd known you'd like it this much. I wouldn't have waited so long." He turned his attention to Loki's throat, kissing and sucking lightly at the pulse beneath his skin. "I'm glad you like it. Really, really glad. Because you are so fucking hot. You feel so good." 

He felt as much as heard the breath catch in Loki's chest as he began to carefully - very carefully - penetrate him again. Loki arched, head tipping back with his eyes closed and lips parted. A shudder went through Loki when Steve was finally seated, though not as deeply as before. He held still, continuing to kiss whatever skin he could reach over Loki's chest and shoulders. Adjusting his balance so he only needed one hand against the bed, he snaked his right hand beneath Loki to grip the back of his neck and squeezed. It wasn't long before Loki was trying to get him to move, grabbing his ass and using his legs to pull Steve forward. 

Slow, easy thrusts would get him to the same destination as anything else, so he resisted Loki's urging for more. He kept his arms around Loki, cradling him, and chased after another deep, hungry kiss. Little, breathless moans spilled out of Loki each time he rocked forward. He was curious, though not enough to stop and ask, about how completely Loki seemed to surrender beneath him. It was the most open and unguarded he'd ever seen Loki, which was both heady and worrying at the same time.

Straightening up, he caressed his hands along the back of Loki's thighs, pushing up and out until Loki was spread open wide on the bed. With a groan, Loki reached down to tug at his own cock. He watched, letting Loki set the rhythm and matching it. 

A bright blush of red began at Loki's cheeks and spread down his throat, spilling over his shoulders and chest. His breathing turned rough and erratic. He reached for Steve, his left hand sliding around to the back of his neck as he pulled him down. The kiss was breathless and uncoordinated. He felt Loki shudder, muscles contracting around him as warm, wet semen pulsed out between them.

Breath hissed between Loki's teeth when Steve withdrew. He made a mental note to wait a few days before doing this again, no matter what Loki said to the contrary. Stripping away the condom, he continued stroking himself, his hand still coated in a thin layer of olive oil, and put off the inevitable just a little bit longer. Loki watched him with half-shuttered eyes, his breathing steadying. It wasn't long, less than a minute, before he reached his own orgasm. He blinked a few times as he caught his breath, leaning forward on his hands for balance.

With an amused expression on his face, Loki reached up to wipe away a drop of semen that had landed on his cheek. "Impressive. Messy, but impressive."

"You look gorgeous covered in cum," he murmured as he bent forward for a kiss.

"Is that so?"

"Definitely. It's a good look for you." There was a sheen of sweat on Loki's skin, leaving a hint of salt on his lips. He licked his lips, then licked a stripe along one collarbone. "You should wear it more often."

"Unless you intend to lick it off, I should get in the shower."

"Tempting." He nuzzled against Loki's neck. "Can we go back to bed after that? Take a nap and be lazy. We can cuddle. Watch cartoons. I can bring you lunch in bed. And dinner in bed. No clothes allowed."

Laughter rumbled in Loki's chest as he draped his arms over Steve's shoulders and combed fingers through his hair. "If you insist."


	9. Chapter 9

The response from Odin, when it finally came, was a surprise.

 _A priority job had already been contracted before you gave your notice. I will consider it your last. See me upon your return._

Loki read the message a dozen times before he convinced himself it was, in fact, real. Then he tried to consider what angles Odin might be playing, what traps he may be laying for Loki to step unwittingly into. A sound in the bedroom caught his ear, but only silence followed, indicating Steve remained safely asleep. 

It was late, but that's what family was for and he dialed Thor anyway. Half expecting it to go to voicemail, he switched back to the information he'd found about James Barnes' record with SHIELD.

"Loki?" Thor said sleepily. "What happened?"

He kept his voice low, glancing toward the bedroom again. "Does something need to happen for me to call my big brother?"

"It's one in the morning." The next words were muffled, likely directed at his girlfriend, Jane, rather than Loki. When he spoke again, Thor sounded more alert. "Where are you? At least tell me what I need to bail you out of jail for this time."

"Really?" Loki protested, feigned indignation. "I call you and your first thought is that I'm in jail."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Thor snapped.

"Relax. I'm not in jail, just out of town for a few days." His fingers paused over one of the pictures of Barnes. The image quality was poor, but he thought the landscape looked vaguely like Afganistan. "I told Odin I'm leaving Asgard."

There was a long pause. "How did he take it?"

"Not sure. He sent me a message that he'd already set up a job before I told him and it will be my last." He gnawed at his lower lip. "Should I take him at his word?"

Thor sighed heavily. "Father is not the heartless monarch you have ever believed him to be."

"A week ago he was ordering me to end my relationship with Steve, I know exactly how much heart he has." The memory of that afternoon was blurred by gin, but still pricked at his temper.

"Was that before or after you had sex with Steve at the _Topaz_? Couldn't you keep it in your pants for one meal? It's been all over the Internet. Do you have any idea what people are saying about you? It’s disgusting. I warned you not to drag him into this. He deserves better."

Thor’s words stung more than he cared to admit. "Actually, it was his idea, not mine. So who’s dragging who?"

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care what you believe." Loki closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose, trying to ease back from the inevitable bickering. "I just want to know if Odin is going to stab me in the back. Honest opinion. You tried to leave Asgard once and he forced you back. Even with Frigga on your side, that didn't make him more reasonable."

"He didn't force me."

"Call it what you want. Made you an offer you couldn't refuse, whatever. How far do you think he'll go to get back at me for this?" He waited patiently as Thor thought through the question. Thor would give him an honest answer and the reality would be far worse.

Thor began slowly, as though selecting his words with great care. "When I saw him last, he said nothing about you leaving or about asking you to end your relationship with Steve. He said the house was not the same without you there. That was all. There are practical considerations as well. He cannot intend to alienate you so entirely that you would turn on him. It would be as damaging for Asgard as it would for you, possibly more."

"Mutually assured destruction is hardly a sound backup plan. I don't trust him, Thor."

"You could've stayed away."

"You know why I came back."

"Mother only wished to see you again, to know that you were well. It was your choice to return to Asgard and work for father." Thor sighed again. "I have not known you to be cautious or care about anyone other than yourself. Nor have you ever asked for my advice before. You only have my number because I put it in your phone myself. Why now?"

Loki bit back a bitter insult, clearing his throat. "I've never had anything to lose. Until now."

"Do I mean so little to you?" Thor demanded.

"Don't make this about you, Thor. Our entire lives, everything has been about you. I am asking, as your brother," he paused, wetting his lips. "If something happens to me. If Odin is setting me up."

Thor cut in quickly. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Promise me you won't let Odin touch Steve. Swear on your life."

"You've gotten paranoid. I'm glad you're getting out, if this is what it has turned you into."

"Swear it."

"I swear, alright? On my life. I'll swear on whatever you want me to if you'll stop being so melodramatic," Thor huffed, clearly frustrated.

Loki snorted. "Says the man who still attends Renaissance Faires."

"I don't...how did you know?"

"Jane posts the pictures on Facebook." Thor began to laugh and Loki had to hold the phone away from his ear until he stopped. "It's not what you think."

"Of course not, you would never Facebook stalk anyone in a million years, let alone your own brother," Thor said with amusement. "Speaking of Jane, it's late and I don't wish to worry her. Have I allayed your fears about father?"

"Hardly. But I will trust you to keep your word. Good night, Thor." He hung up without waiting for a response.

He checked his email one last time before shutting off the tablet and setting it aside. The plans he'd set in motion had come through and that eased his mind considerably; he believed firmly in being prepared. Thor's faith in Odin wasn't particularly reassuring, since it was less likely that Odin would ever try to make Thor - his one true son - disappear. There was a reason assassins didn't typically have retirement plans, and if Odin didn't decide he was a liability, there was always SHIELD to worry about.

With a weary sigh, he padded to the kitchen and liberated a couple bottles of hard cider from the refrigerator. He crept quietly down the hall to the bedroom. The moon was full that night, casting silver over the edges of the furniture, the curves of the blankets, and the lines of Steve's bare back. He smiled, seeing that Steve had commandeered one of his pillows after he'd slipped out of bed.

"You are going to be the death of me," he whispered. 

Bottles in hand, he got back into bed as carefully as possible, trying not to wake Steve. Sitting with his back against the headboard, he let one hand fall to stroke lightly through Steve's hair. For the moment, he was content to listen to the ocean and the steady rhythm of Steve's breathing. In this moment at least, everything was perfect. He'd finished both bottles by the time he heard the shift in Steve's breath and felt him stir.

"Loki," Steve said groggily, rolling on his side first and then curling into Loki to put his head on Loki's lap. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Not tired." That was a lie. He was tired of a great deal: tired of the life he led, tired of killing people for money, tired of being Odin's attack dog. All of those were secrets he would rather take to his grave than tell Steve.

"Can I do anything?" Steve twisted so he could look up at Loki. "I could rub your back or something. Have you tried warm milk?"

"That is an absolutely disgusting suggestion."

"Heathen. Nothing wrong with warm milk." Steve yawned. "Hot shower? I'll come with you." 

Loki carded his fingers through Steve's hair, considering. Showering together would lead to kissing and kissing would lead to sex, all of which sounded relaxing and would help him sleep, but, strangely, he felt like something was missing. He'd felt it all week and hadn't quite been able to put his finger on what exactly what it was. 

"Loki?"

He continued running his fingers through Steve's hair. "This is nice, isn't it?"

"It'll put me right back to sleep, sure. But what about you?"

"I didn't...I never meant." Stopping, he shook his head before bending down to kiss Steve's forehead. Far too often, he seemed to be on the verge of saying something he shouldn't. 

Steve pushed himself up, coming to a cross-legged position beside Loki. "You've been doing that all week. Starting to say something and then stopping. What's up?"

The glow of moonlight against Steve's skin made him look like a Grecian statue. Loki had half a mind to choose the sex option rather than fumble over words and end up with both feet in his mouth. He drew a line with one fingertip, up along the inside of Steve's leg, up over his hip and down again. Maybe if he'd found Steve sooner, his life would've been different.

"I never meant for this to be...this. Us. I thought." He kept his gaze on the line he was drawing over Steve's skin. "I saw you and I wanted you, didn't think much past that. I thought you might be. Useful."

"Useful," Steve said dryly. "Just what every man wants to hear."

He batted lightly at Steve's knee with the back of his fingers. "I'm trying to talk about my feelings here. If you're not interested in what I have to say, I can stop."

"For someone who just wanted to get laid and move on, you really sucked at it."

"Okay, okay. I wasn't necessarily, well, yes, but." He glared when Steve began to laugh, but couldn’t hold onto his irritation. "I never expected to love you. To fall in love with you. You've really messed up my plans. And I _had_ a plan, a very good plan. But you had to be amazing and have this amazing body."

"Don't forget my penis. It's pretty amazing too, don't pretend it's not."

Rolling his eyes, Loki gave up. "I was trying to be serious."

"I know." Steve unfolded his legs and moved to straddle Loki's thighs. He ran his fingertips over Loki's cheekbone, leaning close. "I know you love me. Thank you for saying it. I love hearing it, but you don't need to convince me. And I know this came out of nowhere because it came out of nowhere for me to. Do you think I knew when you showed up to haul boxes that we were going to fall in love? No way. Never in a million years. But here we are and I am crazy in love with you. It doesn't matter that this wasn't your plan or mine or anyone's. We'll make a new plan."

Loki wrapped his arms around Steve, letting his forehead rest against his collarbone. "I don't want it to end."

"Then it won't." Warm lips ghosted over his ear and down his neck. Steve's weight shifted, causing the layers of fabric between them to catch pleasantly in all the right places.

"I want to marry you." And there it was; he'd said it.

Steve pulled back slowly. "You're serious."

"Do you not...want to? Is that, I didn't...if you don't..."

"I didn't say no."

"You didn't say yes either."

"I wasn't expecting a proposal." He reached down to take Loki's hands, holding them against his chest. "Can we talk about this?"

Loki sighed. "You don't want to."

"It's not even legal in this state. Not yet anyway. Look." He took a deep breath. "The past few days have been crazy and wonderful and your entire life is changing faster than you can keep up with. I get that. I'm not going anywhere. I love you and I will still love you once you've gone back to school and gotten away from Asgard. We've got plenty of time. Why not slow down and enjoy it? If you want to start thinking about getting married, then let's do it. We'll pick a date and we'll plan an amazing wedding on a beach or a mountain, whatever you want." 

He didn't know if Odin would snatch this life away from him before they could pick out floral arrangements, but he couldn't tell Steve that, so he smiled instead. "You're right. We've got plenty of time. Then your answer is yes, right? You do want to marry me. Just so we're clear."

Steve leaned in for a kiss. "It's yes. Just so we're clear. Can I make love to my future husband now?"

"You'd better," Loki said against his lips.

They grappled for a moment, each trying to get the other's clothes off without having to stop kissing. Steve was laughing breathlessly between kisses, trying to smile at the same time. His shoulder collided solidly with the headboard when Loki tried to flip him onto his back. Wood cracked against the wall and the painting above the bed jarred and slid off center; something small pinged against the bed frame as it fell.

Steve twisted to look at the painting, now hanging askew. "Did we break it?" 

"I hate that painting anyway, it's terrible. No idea what mother was thinking when she bought it," Loki reassured him. He was far more interested in getting into Steve's boxers and, preferably, getting them off of Steve entirely.

"You know." Steve shifted to let Loki strip him naked. "This is not a complaint, please don't take it that way." His fingers dug into Loki's hair when Loki began to lay soft kisses along the length of his penis. "But I'm kind of glad to be going back to work in a few days."

"Oh? Why's that?" 

"You're wearing me out with all the sex."

"I can stop." He pushed up on his arms. "If you'd like."

"Like I said, not a complaint."

"Roll over."

Steve's eyebrows shot up but he rolled over, adjusting himself to be comfortable lying on his stomach, head pillowed on his arms. "What do you have in mind?"

"I thought we might try something new." 

He indulged himself in running his hands over Steve's body, soaking in the smooth curves of muscle and how the moonlight colored his skin silver. It was entirely unfair - and entirely to his benefit - how perfectly proportioned Steve was, though he knew Steve viewed himself as merely average in every way. How easy it would be to while away the rest of the night kissing and caressing, feeling Steve shiver and jump beneath him, and be utterly satisfied. 

His whole life, he'd found satisfaction in nothing; everything felt hollow standing in Thor's shadow. But here, nothing mattered beyond the valley of Steve's lower back, the upward curve of his spine, and way his muscles tensed as Loki dragged his fingers down the backs of his thighs.

"That tickles," Steve said, his voice muffled against his arm. 

Leaning forward, he kissed the dimples at the base of Steve's spine, slowly making his way, kiss by kiss, up his back. He took his time, nuzzling against the tense muscles between Steve's shoulder blades. There was a subtle, rhythmic sway in Steve's body as he sought out friction against the bed. Loki sunk to his elbows, his chest nearly pressed to Steve's back, and his penis bumping against Steve's ass. Steve groaned, lifting his hips to press against him.

"So eager for it. Is this what you want?" He continued to tease, never quite giving Steve what he was yearning for and waiting for the familiar half-affectionate, half X-Rated rambling to start. It was as predictable as clockwork and the steady clench of Steve's ass as he rutted into the bed.

Beneath him, Steve spread his legs encouragingly. His speech dissolved into a jumble of words, declarations of love mixed with filthy demands for what he wanted Loki to do to him. A particular string of words caught Loki's ears as he leisurely kissed and nibbled at the back of Steve's neck. 

"What was that," he asked, uncertain he'd heard correctly.

"Are you going to tease me all goddamn night?"

"Possibly." He smirked at the groan, low in Steve's throat. "Did you just ask me to fuck you without a condom?"

Steve was quiet, if not still, for a long moment. "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"I trust you."

"It's not about trust." He nuzzled Steve's ear, drawing a line up the outside edge with the tip of his tongue. "Why do you want that? It hardly makes a difference in the outcome. We're both getting off tonight, condom or no condom."

"I don't know. I just want it." A note of frustration crept into Steve's voice and Loki thought he might have teased him long enough.

But he wanted to see if he could push Steve to point where he had no words, no ability to speak at all because he was too overwhelmed by what Loki was doing. He kissed the center of Steve's back again, slow and unhurried, before leaning away to reach the bedside table and retrieve the bottle of lubricant. 

Bottle in hand, he returned to kissing Steve's back, nipping at the muscles tensing against the brush of his lips. He curled a dollop of lube onto the index and middle fingers of his right hand, like the swirl of an ice cream cone and briefly let it warm with his skin. He leaned forward to kiss along Steve's spine as he swiped his fingers over Steve's asshole, smearing the lube. Steve didn't require nearly as much preparation as Loki and his body yielded almost eagerly. He arched up, mouth open, when Loki curled both fingers upward, making short, careful strokes.

"Fuck, Loki. Oh god, yes, do that again, god yes, feels so good," Steve panted. His legs spread a little further and he reached up to plant his hands against the headboard, pushing at it in an attempt to force Loki to go deeper. 

Loki added a third finger, which just made Steve push harder against the bedframe. He curled his fingers again, stroking, trying to repeat the motion until he'd memorized exactly how and _where_. Steve was writhing, hips shuddering as he thrust into the comforter.

"I'm nearly jealous of the bed," Loki said against his shoulder. "Though I do love watching you _fuck_." Steve made a sound somewhere between a gasp and whimper.

He shifted back up to kneel between Steve's legs, smiling at the keening sound Steve made when he removed his fingers and wiped them clean with the nearest piece of clothing. A gentle tug was all the encouragement Steve needed to push up onto his knees, anxious for what was coming next. Loki felt a twinge of misgiving as he bypassed the condoms and slicked his cock with lube, but he brushed it aside. Steve wanted this and he was too far down the rabbit hole to deny Steve anything. 

Snaking one arm around Steve's waist, he pulled him up and back until they were nearly pressed together. The position, Steve sitting backwards on his thighs, forced Steve's back into a bow while giving Loki full access to his body.

With his left hand, he lined himself up, nudging and teasing Steve's hole. He'd intended to go slow, but Steve had other ideas and nearly slammed down onto him, taking Loki completely in one stroke. Breathless from the sudden onslaught of heat and pressure, Loki caught Steve's hip with one hand and tried to steady them. Steve was having none of it; his head lolled back and he was panting heavily, skin slapping as he set a grueling, impossible rhythm. Remembering his right hand, Loki reached around and matched Steve's pace, stroking his cock hard and fast. 

Steve cried out, shivering as he bent forward but still rolling his hips, more slowly now, and still hard in Loki's hand. "Loki, Loki, Loki," he repeated nonsensically, his voice hoarse.

He pulled Steve upright against his chest again and put both hands to work, one stroking along Steve's shaft while the other played over his balls, then drifted up to tweak his nipples. The taut line of Steve's body in this position also tightened his muscles around Loki's cock and Loki was counting how long he was going to last in seconds. But he was determined to see Steve come - breathless and voiceless - first.

A senseless noise slipped through Steve's lips; he went still, holding his breath, muscles shivering in waves as he alternated between rigid tension and complete surrender. Loki could feel how close Steve was and felt the moment he went over the edge, his whole body seizing before hot semen spurted out over Loki's fingers. A second later, too late to think better of it, Loki pressed his forehead to Steve's back and came hard enough to see stars, still buried deep inside Steve's body. 

They tumbled to the side, boneless and spent, and laid against each other, panting. Loki slowly stretched out his legs, feeling his toes tingle from kneeling so long. 

"That was..." Steve trailed off, eyes closed.

"Hmm," was all Loki could manage in reply.

"That was incredible." Rolling onto his back, Steve stretched like a cat, a goofy grin on his lips. "I'm going to marry you."

Loki smirked. "For the sex?"

"The rest is pretty good too."

He shifted to let Steve curl against his side, head resting on his shoulder. "Just pretty good?" 

"You've raised the bar now." Steve pressed light kisses against his shoulder. "Gonna be pretty hard to top that."

"I'm sure we'll manage." It was tempting to fall asleep as they were.

"Can I break the no phone rule?" Steve said suddenly.

"It's the middle of the night."

"Please?" 

"It's your neck, darling. Whoever you're going to wake up and piss off is your business."

Steve kissed him fiercely before scrambling out of bed, surprisingly energetic. "Why don't you hop in the shower? I'll join you in a minute. Should probably toss the sheets in the wash."

"They can wait until morning." He turned his head, watching as Steve retrieved his phone. "Who are you calling at this time of night?"

Grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, Steve held the phone up to his ear, his face oddly lit by the glow of the screen. "Bucky, hey, I know it's late, sorry. I just wanted you to be the first to know." He came back to the bed and settled against Loki's side again, still smiling. "Loki and I are getting married. So...be my best man? I'll be back in a few days, talk to you then." Pulling the phone away, he ended the call. "Voicemail. He'll get it in the morning."

Twisting cold writhed in the pit of Loki's stomach. He reached out to pluck the phone from Steve's hands. "And now I take this away and hide it so you can't spend what's left of our vacation planning a wedding. Go. Get in the shower."

Once Steve was in the bathroom and the water was running, Loki grimly tapped through the menus of Steve's phone. It felt like ages passed as he connected to Asgard's network portal and downloaded an app - one of Asgard's finest - to sync their phones together. Every text message, every voicemail; everything Steve received would also show up on Loki's phone now. It would be invisible to Steve, lurking as an electronic spy. He'd used it on jobs more than a few times, but he felt a little nauseous doing it to Steve. However much he hated to do it, Barnes was a risk who could destroy everything he and Steve had, and that overruled his squeamishness. 

He hurriedly stripped the bed and pulled fresh linens out of the hall closet. As he drew the top left corner of the fitted sheet down over the mattress, a gleam of metal caught his eye and he remembered the sound of something falling when they'd knocked the painting loose. He knelt down, feeling behind the bed for a nail or fastener fallen from the wall. His fingers found a long, narrow shape, cold against his skin. He pulled it out and set it on his palm, frowning. It was a key to a safe; he recognized the brand logo. He didn't know of any safe in the beach house, but that didn't mean there wasn't one.

He set those thoughts aside and finished making the bed. The phone went back into the drawer and the key into a different drawer before he joined Steve in the shower, distracting himself - and Steve - with lazy kisses until they were both washed clean. More kisses while they toweled off and he followed Steve back to bed.

"Mmm. Clean sheets." Steve wriggled under the comforter. "Bet you'll sleep like a baby now."

"I'm sure," he lied.

All the lies in the world would be worth it if they kept Steve with him, and none of them would be worth anything if Steve discovered the truth. He closed his eyes as Steve curled around him, his thoughts drifting back to the key and why Frigga had hidden it behind the ugly painting. 

That mystery could wait until morning.

**

Muting the television did nothing to stop Bucky from reading the text along the bottom. His _problem_ had turned into a disaster. He scowled at his phone, uncertain if he was angrier with the press or with Steve.

"Big, blond idiot," he muttered into his coffee. "Hey Steve, here's a wedding present for you. I'm arresting your boyfriend."

His evidence was circumstantial at best, but a mountain of circumstantial was beginning to add up to an extremely unpleasant certainty; Steve was in bed with a killer and now he wanted to _marry him_. It was small consolation that they wouldn't be able to simply run down to the nearest courthouse to do it and SHIELD would know if Loki crossed any state lines. Now that Loki was on SHIELD's radar, it was only a matter of time before he had concrete evidence.

Exactly what he was going to do with that evidence was another question entirely. He scowled at his phone again. He was under orders not to do anything, not to say anything, not to even _look_ at Loki in any way that might jeopardize a high priority SHIELD investigation. 

He shut the television off. He had no stomach for the rampant speculation. They'd figured out who Steve was and he was a little surprised how quickly the vultures had managed to start digging up high school yearbook photos and old 'friends' more than happy to spill everything they knew, or felt like making up, about Steve Rogers. There wasn't much to find, but the fact that Steve was a damn boy scout only fueled the speculation of his entanglement with Loki. It was a small mercy the press had decided to run with the angle that Steve was a good influence; the man who had tamed the wildest of bad boys. They didn't know the half of it.

There was no way in Hell he was going to let Steve go through with marrying Loki. He refilled his mug from the coffee pot before returning to his desk to keep digging. The only way he could stop this was to find something so obvious even Steve couldn't make excuses for it. Loki had been living with Steve for months and managed not to raise suspicion, but there had to be something.

Loki was careful, but Bucky wondered how careful he was with Steve. If he let his guard down, maybe a little bit of pillow talk, he might have let something slip. Chances were Steve wouldn't even realize he'd been given a glimpse into Loki's secret life, and while it was highly unlikely Loki would ever talk, Steve Rogers was an open book. He was also in love and what could be more normal than wanting to talk about his fiancé with his oldest and best friend?

Bucky bit his lower lip, uneasy with treating Steve as an intelligence source. It wasn't his preferred option, but he had very few options available. He'd have to get Steve alone, away from Loki, and see what he could get out of him.

He reached for his phone and fired off a quick text message, feigning excitement, adding a few extra exclamation points to his congratulations, and offering to take both Steve and Loki out for celebratory drinks when they returned. They couldn't be too far; SHIELD hadn't flagged any flights for either of their names. Still, he didn't expect an immediate response and tried not to think about what might be keeping Steve occupied.

"Idiot," he muttered again. "It's for your own good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a rather happy note, I wrote this prior to the U.S. Supreme Court decision on marriage equality in June 2015. Quite happy to have my fanfic made less realistic by that ruling, though I decided to keep the constraint of legality in the fic.


	10. Chapter 10

On the last morning, they slept late, putting off getting out of bed as long as possible. Loki wanted to be on the road by noon. The cleaning company was coming in the afternoon to close the beach house back up for the rest of the winter and Loki had a meeting with Odin early Sunday morning; one last assignment he had to take. Steve could tell the meeting with Odin worried Loki; he grew quiet whenever he mentioned it, the look in his eyes far away. Unable to do more than offer support, he listened to Loki's heart beat as he stroked a thumb lightly over his sternum. 

"What about Fiji?" Loki said suddenly, eyes still closed.

"What about Fiji."

"For our honeymoon. They've got these huts out over the water with windows in the floor so you can watch the fish swimming through the coral."

"Sounds expensive."

Loki's lips quirked a little. "It'll be worth it."

"I'm sure it would be." He tipped his head up to kiss Loki's jaw, nuzzling him affectionately. "We'll go wherever you want to go, even if that's Fiji. But why not just come here? This could be our place to get away from everything. I love it here; you love it here."

His arm tightened around Steve, cheek pressing against his hair. "You're right. Much better idea than Fiji."

"We have to come back anyway. I still want that desk we saw in town. The one with the little drawers." He spent a few moments trying to determine where to put the desk in the small upper space of their house, deciding he'd need to take a few measurements when they got home before he committed to buying it. The older couple who'd run the store had his email address and had promised to let him know if it sold before he could come back again. "Where do you want to get married? New York is probably closest, but we could fly to California. Get married at Disneyland or something."

That got Loki's attention. He craned his neck, eyes open now. "Disneyland?"

"We don't have to dress up in costumes or anything."

Laughter tumbled out of Loki's lips. He twisted to kiss Steve's forehead, still laughing as he pulled away. "If that's what you want, Disneyland it is. It doesn't matter to me, as long as I get to put a ring on your finger and take you, officially, off the market. I might even be convinced to wear a costume, although I may, perhaps, insist on being a villain. You can be the handsome prince."

"You're my prince." He grinned even though he knew Loki was mocking him, good-naturedly. "Now I'm getting excited."

One eyebrow arched up. "Just now?"

"You keep going and I'll wash that smart mouth of yours out with something." He shifted, letting his hand drift down Loki's stomach and between his legs, cupping his crotch. Loki's eyelashes fluttered; his cock pulsed against Steve's palm. "And it won't be soap."

He rocked his hips against Steve's hand. "And what do I have to do to get your attention somewhere other than my mouth?"

"I really wish I knew what flipped the switch for you." 

"Switch?"

"You've been insatiable lately. Like you can't get enough of me." He wasn't complaining, but he had a feeling Loki had never let himself want anything so openly. "Before, it always felt like you were holding back."

Loki reached down to pull at the waistband of his underwear, cheekily moving Steve's hand to his bare penis. Steve watched the motion of his throat when he swallowed. It was impossible not to be aroused by the way Loki's skin was beginning to flush, the way his cock was growing steadily harder against Steve's fingers, how gorgeous Loki's hair looked curling against the pillow. He'd be happy with just this, pressed against each other and drowning in the sense of them, the smell of skin and sex, the sounds Loki was making, but he could tell Loki was working himself up to more. There were little tells: his tongue peeking out between his teeth and the brush of his fingers against the back of Steve's hand, wanting but not quite ready to ask for it.

"Don't go anywhere," he whispered in Loki's ear. "I want to try something." 

Most of their clothes were already laundered and packed. He rustled through one of the bags until he found the red tie he'd worn to dinner at the Topaz. Loki was watching him curiously, one arm angled behind his head. More excited than nervous, Steve stripped off his own underwear before climbing back into the bed and taking care of Loki's as well. He straddled Loki's legs, holding up the tie with both hands.

He nodded to the tie. "May I?"

Loki's eyes narrowed, brow furrowing. He stroked one hand against Steve's thigh for a moment. "Why?" There was an odd sharpness to his voice.

"I just...I thought it might be fun. For you." He was puzzled by Loki's reaction. "If you don't want to, that's fine."

Long, pale fingers closed around one end of the tie. "Can't hurt to try."

"If it bothers you, just tell me, okay?" 

He kept his movements slow as he leaned down to lay the tie over Loki's eyes, looping it around to tie it loosely at the back of Loki's head, careful not to catch any of his hair in the knot. Loki let out a long, steady breath, but Steve could feel tension in his body, tension that hadn't been there moments before.

"You know you can trust me." Gently, he brushed his lips over Loki's and then kissed his way along the line of his jaw to nip at his earlobe. "Focus on how it feels when I kiss you. When I touch you."

"Steve." There was a quaver in Loki's voice.

When he looked down, he saw Loki's hands were clenched into fists as his sides. His chest was rising and falling too quickly, his breathing shallow. This was _fear_ , he realized and immediately pulled the tie away. 

Loki caught Steve's wrist. "No, it's...it's fine. Put it back. I'm fine."

"You're afraid." He sat back, his weight on Loki's thighs, and frowned. "I never thought much about it before, figured you just liked being able to see. But it's more than that, isn't it? The first time we had sex, you almost panicked when you couldn't see me and I touched you. I just want to understand. You know me, you _love_ me, and I think you trust me. But not being able to see frightens you and I want to know why."

Huffing out a breath, Loki sunk against the pillow. "I wanted to know why having sex when I'm drunk bothers you, but I never got an answer, did I?"

He crossed his arms. "Really? That's how you're going to play this?" 

"I don't like being blind," Loki said defensively.

"This is more than just not liking it."

The set of Loki's jaw was a challenge. "Unless you intend on having a round of really angry sex, get off of me."

"Maybe I do."

Loki barked a laugh. "Very funny." He started to push away.

Not thinking, Steve caught Loki's forearm and jerked him back harder than he intended, pinning him down against the bed. He was frustrated and confused; he only wanted an explanation and didn't think it was too much to ask for one. Loki's eyes went wide and he realized he'd made a mistake, all of his anger vanishing in an instant. Before he could open his mouth to apologize, Loki twisted impossibly quickly and Steve was thrown off balance. A knee hit him solidly in the chest, sending him tumbling off the bed and crashing to the floor.

Loki followed, kneeling down beside him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean...are you hurt?"

He waved Loki off, trying to recover from having the breath knocked out of him. "I'm okay."

"I'm so sorry."

"I had that coming." He rubbed at his chest. "Now I know you've got a trigger. It's okay."

"That wasn't..."

"You threw me off the bed because I scared you. I know you said your dad never hit you, but a reaction like that? Someone hurt you. I can figure that much out by myself. I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you to do something I knew you'd be uncomfortable with and I shouldn't have grabbed you like that." He tried to smile. "How about an answer for an answer?"

Loki stiffened, but he eventually nodded. He settled on the floor, head bowed and hands loose over his knees. Moving slowly, he came to sit beside Loki, his back against the side of the bed. 

"My mom loved my dad. He wasn't violent when he got drunk, just...wasn't himself. He used sex as another drug. It was his solution for everything. A bad day, a setback, everything. Got to where he didn't really see my mom as my mom, you know? She wasn't a person anymore, just another kind of bottle he depended on to feel better about himself for a little while. Then the fighting started. It made me angry, seeing her suffer like that. It doesn't bother me if you're drunk and want sex. It bothers me if there's something you only want when you're drunk, because then I wonder if you really want it at all. I mean, now I know for sure. I know you like it, I know you want it, sober or not, so I'm not worried about that anymore."

Loki leaned into him, shifting to sit with his elbows propped on his knees. "Can we...can we try again?" His voice was rough.

Already shaking his head, Steve wrapped an arm around Loki's shoulders. "You don't need to prove anything to me."

"I'm not." He swallowed. "I'm proving something to myself. Can we try again when we get home? In our bed, our home. Where I know I'm safe."

 _Safe_ , Steve thought and his heart ached. "Alright."

"There are some things I'll never be able to tell you." Loki looked away. "Not because I don't trust you."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know what Asgard Industries does? What Odin does?" His voice was oddly flat and distant, as though he was talking about the weather. "They call it private security. Soldiers for hire, mercenaries. Odin's business is war and death. Haven't you ever wondered why Thor spent so much time in Afghanistan? The kind of people I'm used to dealing with are the kind who'll stab you in the back for cab fare. Odin has his food tested for poison when he goes out. Can you imagine what that's like? I grew up with bodyguards, always expecting someone to kidnap me and send pieces of me back to Odin in a box, just to get something out of the old man."

"Jesus, Loki." Pieces began to click together and he was a thousand times more grateful Loki had decided to leave Asgard for good. He'd been prepared for Loki to be afraid of being struck, even abused, but not kidnapped and murdered. 

"Pretty pointless." Loki laughed humorlessly. "Now I know I'm not really his son. He probably wouldn't have paid the ransom if someone had taken me."

He pulled Loki against his chest, rocking him and stroking his hair. "You are leaving Asgard. You are leaving and you're going back to school and we're getting married. And you are going to be safe. Happy and safe for the rest of your life. I promise."

Loki held onto Steve tightly. "One more trip. It shouldn't be...I'll be gone a few days. After that, it'll be over." 

There was profound relief in Loki's voice and Steve had a new appreciation for it. No wonder Loki had ended up falling into a lifestyle of drugs and reckless behavior, he'd gone through his formative years living in fear and surrounded by violence. He must've been so desperate to escape that life, he would've tried anything. They sat together, holding each other, until Steve's left foot started to tingle and he had to move. 

"I want to try again," Loki repeated, determined.

"We will. Later." He brushed his lips over Loki's forehead. "Now let's go home." 

They spoke very little as they dressed and packed away the last of their things. Loki was lost in thought, often gazing out the window with a slight furrow in his brow. Steve didn't pry, deciding to give him whatever space he needed. Loki locked the front door behind them and they stowed their suitcases in the trunk of the Jaguar. He watched the ocean, grey as the winter sky above them, as Loki drove through the security gate and then out onto the coastal road leading them back to the city.

He reached over to squeeze Loki's hand. "I'm glad we did this. Thank you." 

Loki flashed him a smile. "Hopefully you'll still be glad when you see the surprise I have for you." He hesitated, licking his lips. "And I hope you like it. I hope it's...okay that I did it."

"I'll probably forgive you."

"Probably?"

"Sexual favors go a long way."

"I thought I'd worn you out with a week of debauchery."

"Gonna have to try harder."

"And you say I'm the insatiable one."

"Guess we were meant for each other." He settled back into the car seat and fiddled with the radio until he found a decent station. 

Mentally, he zoned out while Loki drove, watching the scenery fly by outside and thinking about everything and nothing. He had more pieces of Loki now, though he still felt he was only scratching the surface, but they had the rest of their lives for him to figure Loki out. That thought cheered him and he turned his thoughts toward a wedding, turning over ideas for invitations and ceremonies. He wondered about the guest list, particularly who Loki might want to be there and if they'd have to worry about paparazzi; that was something he'd never thought he'd have to care about.

Afternoon was waning and Steve had gone through half a dozen reception scenarios when Loki pulled the Jaguar into the narrow driveway and parked behind Steve's bike. It took a moment for Steve to register that he was looking at a new porch instead of a pile of lumber and a hole in the frozen ground. The wide porch matched the house perfectly, as though it had always been intended, and on one side, he saw a wooden swing big enough for both of them hanging on two thick chains. The lump in his throat made it hard to breathe.

Loki shut the car off. "Is it alright? I know you like working on the house."

"Come here." He cupped a hand against the back of Loki's head and pulled him in to kiss him until they were both breathless. "It's wonderful. You are wonderful and I love you."

"There is...one thing more."

"Loki, seriously. You're going to give me a heart attack."

"Go inside and look in the basement. I'll take care of the bags." Loki kissed him lightly. "And that, I promise, will be the last surprise."

He was buzzing, overwhelmed with how many good things were happening; he couldn't believe any of it was real. He let himself into the house, leaving the door cracked open for Loki to follow, and hurried down the stairs to the basement. The space was largely unused beyond the corner with the washer and dryer. At first, he didn't see anything different, but he could smell fresh plaster and paint on the air. On the second look, he noticed a door he didn't remember being there and a section of the wall seemed closer than it had been before. 

Curious, he crossed to the door and set his fingers on the handle. It turned easily. The smell hit him first, rich and woody, almost like leather. Soft lights overhead turned on without him doing anything, sensing either him or the door. The room was about ten feet long and four feet wide; all four walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves of dark wood and about half filled with wine bottles. He gaped at the space, trying to fathom how Loki had found someone to do this much work in such a short time. There was an electronic control panel on the wall near the door and he could feel the climate control. He didn't even want to think about how much it had cost. Shutting the door carefully, he took a deep breath to steady himself.

He knew Loki didn't care that they lived in a little, rundown cottage in a neighborhood only barely maintaining a sliver of respectability. It didn't matter that it wasn't a mansion or what Loki was used to. He knew that, he was certain of it, but he wondered if their first real argument would inevitably be about money, once Loki was no longer working for Asgard and had tuition to pay.

"We'll figure it out," he told the empty basement and hoped it was true.

Above him, he heard footsteps as Loki came into the house and headed for the bedroom. Loki clearly wanted to please him, he didn't doubt that either. What he doubted was his ability to tell Loki he _was_ pleased while opening the door for a discussion about spending habits at the same time. He'd already crossed one line today and he didn't want to make a habit of it, but putting off the conversation might be worse.

On an impulse, he went back to the wine cellar and grabbed the nearest bottle of red wine he could reach, praying it wasn't anything particularly rare or expensive, and headed back upstairs. He pulled down two wine glasses and dug out the corkscrew from the drawer.

"Loki?" he called down the hallway. "Did you get everything out of the car? Do you need any help?"

"All good," came the muffled reply.

He poured out the wine, setting the bottle to breathe on the counter, and carried both glasses into the bedroom. "All this deserves a toast, don't you think?" He smiled as he held out the glass of wine to Loki.

"You like it?" Loki looked at him hopefully, pausing in his effort of unpacking to accept the glass. "You're not upset I didn't tell you?"

"I think I've had my fill of surprises for a while, but I'm not upset. I love it. I love all of it and I love you. In the future, let's decide this kind of thing together, okay? That's all I ask."

"Of course," Loki said quickly.

Steve raised his glass. "To us. And to happily ever after."

"To us," Loki echoed.

The glasses clinked together. He waited for Loki to take a sip before he stepped in close and kissed the wine from his lips. "What do you say to finishing this bottle of wine and going to bed early? We'll watch Netflix or something. Order a pizza for dinner. One last night before you have to think about Asgard or work."

Loki nodded, his arm slipping around Steve and one hand sliding into his back left pocket. "I meant what I said at the beach house. I want to try again. While I still have the courage."

"Drink your wine and I'll get you another glass." He only smiled when Loki raised his eyebrows. He moved to one of the open suitcases and grabbed a handful of clothes to return to the closet. "You in the mood for a movie or a show? We haven't checked out _Orphan Black_ yet."

"Perhaps. It looks interesting." Loki started on another bag and tossed their various electronics onto the bed along with a bundle of charging cables. He sorted out the cables as he set the devices to charge on their respective bedside chairs. "We never found anything that would work for side tables. I know you wanted to find something."

"There's no rush. The chairs have worked fine so far. We need measurements anyway."

"What about the rest of the basement? Still want a fireplace?"

They discussed options for the basement while they unpacked, considering a real laundry area with storage and a utility sink, or perhaps a bar and an entertainment room. A second bedroom would add more value to the house, especially if it had a bathroom. Steve refilled the wine glasses, finishing off the bottle. He brought up the second floor, which wasn't an attic but not quite a useable space either. Loki suggested turning it into an office or den-like space for books; a place for him to study other than the kitchen bar.

The thought of coming home to Loki studying stopped Steve in his tracks, wine glass halfway to his lips. It was such a perfect, normal thought, utterly domestic and simple; it was wonderful. He stared openly at Loki, who was lying on the bed with his tablet beside him. 

Loki noticed the look after a few moments and cocked his head to the side. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no. I just...I just realized that I have everything I've ever wanted. Right now. With you. And I'm happy. I'm really happy." He stopped because the lump in his throat was back and he was babbling like an idiot.

Motioning for him to come closer, Loki turned onto his side, propped up on one elbow. He waited for Steve to lay down beside him. With his knees bent, feet flat on the bed, Steve could lean the tablet against his thighs and after tugging a few pillows into place, he was comfortably nestled into the angles of Loki's body. Loki navigated through menus with light touches, finally settling on an independent film they'd talked about watching. His breath was soft and warm against Steve's temple.

Halfway through the opening credits, a stray thought struck Steve. "Do you really want to get a dog?"

"Someday. I like dogs." Loki paused. "I like cats too, if you'd rather have a cat."

"Both," Steve said. "Both would be nice."

"What about." Loki cleared his throat, his gaze focused on the tablet. "What about children?"

"Um, sure, I've always wanted kids, but I'm not in a hurry or anything. Perfectly happy to start with a dog and see how it goes." He hoped that was a safe answer. Given Loki's less than glowing feelings toward his own adoption and his family, the idea of parenthood was probably a lot more daunting for Loki than it was for him. "What about you?"

"I've never thought about it. Maybe." He chewed at his lower lip for a moment. "You're right, a dog is good place to start. Before we think about kids."

"But you'd like to think about it?" His voice squeaked a little at the end.

"Maybe."

The movie started; it had an interesting enough plot and characters that he wasn't too distracted by the lazy circles Loki was drawing over his chest. It felt good, the little touches, and the heat of Loki's body against his side. He imagined a dog, or a cat, curled up near their feet or at his side and that made him smile too. Every so often, he turned his face enough to kiss Loki's cheek and each time, the corner of Loki's mouth turned up in a small smile. About halfway through, Loki needed to move his arm and extended it behind Steve's head. He pouted a little, since he couldn't kiss Loki without dislodging the tablet now. Loki only laughed.

"I'm going to make a drink." Loki began to pull away. "Do you want one?"

"I'm good. Want me to pause it?"

"No, I'll only be a minute."

Steve shivered with the loss of heat against his side. He found it harder to watch the movie without Loki and far easier to glance down the hall, listening as Loki moved about the kitchen. A few months earlier, Loki could barely bring himself to commit to a relationship; now he wanted to get married and was asking about starting a family in one form or another. If Steve wasn't _living_ it, he wouldn't have believed it. He watched Loki come back down the hallway, a tumbler in one hand with what looked like cranberry juice and smelled like gin. Ice clinked as he settled on the bed, sitting against the headboard so he could hold his drink.

"Do you want me to order the pizza," Loki asked over the glass.

"I'm guessing the movie's not really catching your attention."

Loki winced, looking abashed. "Sorry."

"No problem. It's not going anywhere." He hit pause before rolling onto his side. "What sounds good? The barbecue chicken pizza we got last time was pretty good." He handed over the tablet so Loki could order the pizza and watched him work. 

Maybe Loki would drink less once he was no longer working for Asgard. Now that Steve thought about it, and had a reason to think about it, he remembered behaviors he should have noticed before. The way Loki repeatedly and thoroughly checked the locks on the doors and windows at night and how he never liked to sit out in the open at a restaurant, preferring a booth or, even better, a corner. Small things here and there that Steve had dismissed as personality quirks, but when viewed in the light of what Loki had told him, took on new significance.

Loki handed the tablet back. Steve set it on the bed and laid his head on Loki's lap, one arm draped over his legs. He felt Loki's fingers comb lightly through his hair and smiled.

"When you get back from your trip, when it's over, we'll go to the shelter and see what we find."

"Alright."

"Let's just relax tonight. I'll give you a massage or something, if you want one."

"Is this your way of telling me you don't want to have sex tonight?"

He rolled onto his back so he could look up at Loki. "This is nice, that's all. Just being together, doing nothing. We can try the blindfold again later. After you get back. We'll make it something special." 

Loki resumed stroking his fingers through Steve's hair, smiling faintly. "Shouldn't you check your phone and email? Now that we're home."

"It can wait until tomorrow."

Loki's fingers paused briefly. "Whatever happens, never doubt that I love you."

It was an odd thing to say, although odd wasn't uncharacteristic for Loki. Years might go by before Loki stopped fearing everything around him would collapse or be ripped away from him without warning. The thought of years together brought back the warm, happy glow, while thoughts of how Loki's childhood had shaped him to fear loss so deeply were heart breaking. Tangled between the two emotional extremes, Steve didn't know how to answer, so he caught Loki's hand and kissed his fingertips instead.

"We are going to be ridiculously happy, that's what's going to happen next." He pressed Loki's hand flat against his chest over his heart. "Even when we're driving each other up the wall, we'll be happy."

"And you know this because you can see the future?"

"Yup. And our future is this house and getting married and getting a dog and, maybe someday, having a family."

"Sounds very normal." There was nothing mocking in Loki's voice. He sounded perfectly content with the idea of _normal_.

Steve thought he must've been born under a strange, if lucky, star to have found someone whose idea of wonderful was utter normalcy. He couldn't fault Peggy for her nobility and altruism - someone had to save the world after all - and he didn't blame Bucky for his need to seek out excitement and adventure. As much as he'd loved them, he'd always known he was the harbor, while they both raced out to chase the storm. But Loki, more than anything, was looking for a place to call _home_ and that was exactly what Steve could give, what he wanted and ached to give someone.

"What we did last night." Loki moved his hand back to Steve's hair, his touch gentle. "You seemed to enjoy that."

The memory of their previous night's activities sent blood rushing to Steve's groin. Heat spread over his chest, up his throat, and out over his cheeks; he knew Loki would see the blush for the desire it was. He'd liked the position, liked how it balanced the control between them, but also left him feeling open, almost vulnerable, to however Loki wanted to touch him. He felt a twinge of guilt for pressuring Loki into having unprotected sex. Safety had always been a priority; even as a stupid teenager, he'd known well enough to insist on protection. The night before had been an aberration, a momentary lapse where his good sense had been overruled by a desire he still couldn't put his finger on. 

He cleared his throat, swallowing. "Last night, I shouldn't have asked you not to wear a condom. It's not that I don't want to, nothing like that. It's just not-"

"I don't mind wearing one," Loki said quickly.

"It's not...I mean, I'm not opposed to _not_. We're in a monogamous, committed relationship. Old habits, I guess, that's all." He let it go with that, still trying to chase after the nameless desire that had prompted the choice. It wasn't something he'd ever asked Bucky for, or even thought much about, and now he wondered why not and why he'd wanted it with Loki. But he was probably reading too much into it if he was looking for a hidden meaning.

"Whatever you're thinking about, it must be very serious." Loki's fingers teased down the line of his nose, tapping the end lightly.

"Just thinking about how lucky I am."

"Uh-huh," Loki said skeptically. "I know you. You have a filthy, filthy mind for someone who looks so innocent."

"Maybe the pizza guy will be cute and we can invite him in." He laughed when Loki grabbed one of the pillows and pummeled him with it. "Okay, okay! No threesome with the pizza guy. You might like it, you know. Can't be sure until you try."

Loki hit him with the pillow again. "You're depraved."

"Completely." He caught the pillow and tugged it from Loki's hands, still grinning. "And if you end up liking the blindfold."

"Oh no. _No_."

"You didn't even let me finish!"

"No."

"I wasn't going to suggest we go straight to whips and chains." Trying not to laugh, Steve gave Loki his best puppy dog face. "Just a little experimentation. They have clubs and parties for people looking to spice up the bedroom a little."

"I'm sure I can find something better for you to do with your mouth."

Steve hummed. "I'm coming around to the idea of having sex tonight."

"Yes, apparently you'd like to bang the pizza guy. What if it's a pizza girl?"

"Works for me." With a shrug, he rolled away to get up and change into more comfortable clothes, stripping off his jeans and t-shirt. Maybe he would take Loki up on the suggestion of a drink after all. It wasn't as though he had to wake up and get to work in the morning. He glanced back over his shoulder as he pulled on athletic shorts. "I'm just giving you a hard time."

"Not hard enough," Loki mused wickedly, his gaze on Steve's crotch.

Steve rolled his eyes. "You've turned me into a horny teenager all over again, you know that, right? It's terrible." He held off putting on the tank top he usually slept in and came back to the bed half dressed, straddling Loki's legs as though he was about to give him a lap dance. Which wasn't such a bad idea.

Loki's hands immediately went to his ass, pulling him forward. "Such a hardship for you. Wanting me like this."

"It really is. You have no idea." Leaning down, he came close enough to kiss Loki, but held back at the last, teasing with the slight, heated distance between their lips. The slick fabric of the athletic shorts wasn't going to hide anything and didn't keep Loki from snaking a hand up one leg. He moaned as cool fingers wrapped around his rapidly hardening penis. "Okay, okay. Let's have sex. Yes to more sex. Whatever you want."

Loki kissed him sweetly, smiling against his lips. "I have everything I've ever wanted. Right here, with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last bit of fluffiness before it all goes to Hell in a hand basket. :)


	11. Chapter 11

Loki took obscene enjoyment in knowing this would be the last time he parked the Jaguar in the drive, the last time he walked through the front door of the cold, glittering mansion, and the last time he would raise his hand to knock on Odin's office door. 

"Enter," Odin called.

Steeling himself, Loki took a deep breath and let himself in. He moved casually, dropping down onto the chair and propping his feet up in the way he knew Odin hated. "I do hope there's not a lot of dreary paperwork required for this.”

Odin barely spared him a glance. "You've never had a mind for anything beyond murder and mayhem. It’s who you _are_."

The curve of his lips couldn't be considered a smile by any stretch of the imagination, but he refused to let Odin undermine the hope he had for a real future with Steve; a real, normal life. Instead, he made a show of inspecting his fingernails while Odin finished whatever he was doing on his computer. There was an unusually thick manila folder on the desk. He made no move to reach for it, waiting for Odin to give him an indication it was his target package.

Odin continued as though anything Loki might say was utterly irrelevant. “You have refused to abandon your dalliance with Steven Rogers. You would choose him over your own family.”

“We’re hardly a family. And, if you must know, I intend to marry him. Perhaps you should view this as gaining a son, as they say.”

Odin’s cold blue eye looked his direction for a moment. “You've left me little choice in the matter. Your assignment is on the desk. There is additional information I thought you may wish to have as well.”

That his life was not for Odin to choose was the entire point, Loki thought bitterly.

Deliberately unimpressed, Loki dropped his feet to reach the packet. Inside was the usual dossier on the target and a narrow, moleskin notebook he recognized immediately as the kind Frigga had favored. He ignored the dossier in favor of the notebook, opening it reverently. It was a field journal; Frigga’s delicate, practical handwriting covered the pages. Inside the front cover was a list of familiar names, some with a heavy line through them. The names he knew, like Rumlow and Garrett, and Alexander Pierce, were men he’d killed. There were a few names he didn’t recognize; _Grant Ward_ wasn't one of his but it was familiar in a way he couldn't put his finger on. The very last name to be crossed off the list was Jaspar Sitwell.

“What is this?”

“Your mother made that list before she died. She completed as many as she could before the treatments made her too sick to continue.” Odin finally turned toward him, leaning back in his expensive leather chair. “She would be proud to see you finish what she started.”

Loki wondered, but didn’t ask. He’d never asked why before and now, he didn’t want to know. Neither he nor Thor had ever held the delusion that their parents' lives - Thor's parents - revolved solely around their family. They'd both seen and felt the daily toll of who and what Odin and Frigga were, but it was different to have concrete evidence of Frigga's life outside of the role of mother. In his pocket, the silver key from the beach house seemed to burn. Could it be related to Frigga's list? She'd spent many of her final days at the beach house.

Rather than respond to the bait Odin dangled in front of him, he tucked the notebook into an inside pocket of his jacket and sifted through the usual packet. He was unsurprised to see the target was _Jaspar Sitwell_. There were plane tickets and confirmation of a hotel reservation in Seattle, Washington. It needed to look like an accident and he had seventy two hours to complete the job. He left the target profile to read and destroy once he reached Seattle. Three days wasn’t much of a window but Sitwell didn't look like he'd be much of a challenge either. 

Seventy two hours and he could put all of this behind him, forever.

He gave Odin a curt nod before standing up and heading for the door. Staged accidents took careful prep work. Mentally, he started making a list of the equipment he'd need to take with him or gather once he reached Seattle.

"Loki." Odin's voice stopped him. When he glanced back, there was a small, enigmatic smile on the old man's face. "Enjoy your flight."

He left the office without saying anything and closed the door behind him. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he checked the weather forecast in Seattle as he walked. His old room felt empty; he'd taken everything that mattered to Steve's, which had been precious little enough to show for an entire life spent under Odin's roof. He glanced at the tickets again, this time looking for the boarding time and deciding to head to the airport earlier rather than later. Moping about being away from Steve would be equally unproductive at the gate as it would be here.

He packed light, throwing in a single suit amongst sweaters and jeans to maintain the cover of a business trip. Seattle was hardly a tourist draw in the middle of December but the timing couldn't be helped. Idly, he wondered if he should pick up a few brochures from art galleries and bring them back to Steve, perhaps scout out attractions they could visit later, together. The usual toiletries and a camera went into the carryon bag, the dossier into his messenger bag, and he was done. 

The drive to the airport was leisurely with light Sunday traffic. He stopped for coffee and breakfast along the way. Surprisingly, the short term parking lot was nearly full - he blamed holiday travel - and it was a hike to the airport terminal. This part of the job was mundane and familiar; he was on auto-pilot as he checked in at the kiosk and went through the security line. Past security, he bought a bottle of water and a newspaper to read before making his way to the gate. There was still an hour before his flight when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. 

His heartbeat jumped at the possibility of a message from Steve, but the new message was flagged as incoming to Steve's phone rather than coming from Steve. He hesitated, almost dismissing it without checking; it was probably nothing. But he hadn't survived working for Odin by trusting people and assuming nothing was going to go wrong. He flicked his thumb across the screen to open the message; it was from Barnes.

_Loki isn't who you think he is. I'm on my way over. Please just hear me out._

Blood thundered in his ears, each pulse a hammer beneath his skin, and a cold, nauseating wave of terror began to close in around him. It was impossible; it had to be impossible.

He bolted from his seat, leaving his carry-on bag behind without the slightest thought, and sprinted down the terminal. Security shouted as he blew past the guard station; he shouted back that his father had been rushed to the hospital and kept running. Rather than heading for his car, he went straight for the pick-up lanes and hailed a taxi, barking out the address as he climbed into the passenger seat.

It took all his self-control to sit still in the back seat, his mind racing through possibilities. He didn't know where Barnes was, didn't know how long it would take him to get to Steve. Even without traffic, it would take at least forty five minutes for him to reach the house.

 _Not now, not now_ , he chanted silently. Not now that he was getting out. This was his last job and he was going to be free. He was so close. If Barnes snatched this away from him; if Steve discovered the truth, he would lose everything. He'd lose Steve and the pathetic little house and their pathetic normal life that he wanted so badly it ached.

Loki clenched his fists, eyes shut tightly, and prayed.

**

There was a note on Loki's pillow when Steve woke up, letting him know about fresh orange juice in the fridge and that Loki would call when he'd reached his destination. A tiny heart was drawn over the _i_ in his name instead of a dot.

Steve pinched himself to be certain he was awake. 

Grinning like a fool, he hurried to get dressed and wolfed down a protein shake and a bowl of granola. He set his laptop on the kitchen bar and started it up, then detoured to the second floor with a tape measure, notebook, and pencil in hand. Maybe he couldn't hope to ever top Loki's surprise porch and wine cellar, but he could get measurements of the space and start putting together ideas for an office Loki could use once he started school. It took a good half hour to shuffle boxes around and take down all of the measurements he thought he'd need.

The pitch of the roof left both sides mostly unusable for anything other than storage. Chewing at his pencil, he sketched out a rudimentary layout of bookshelves and cupboards; he could give them the same look as the built in shelves in the bedroom. As an afterthought, he marked out a half height section that could double as a bed with the addition of a cushion and pillows. That would give them an option if Loki was up late studying - not that he wanted to discourage him from coming to bed - or if they had someone visit. 

The thought of guests reminded him that he probably had a message from Bucky. He finished up and headed back downstairs, collecting his phone from the bedroom before settling at the counter to go through his email from the past week. He was distracted by sending a quick email to Peggy to tell her the good news, promising more information and a proper invitation later. The rest of the group could wait until he and Loki set a date or had everyone over for the housewarming party he kept postponing. He'd let Loki handle how and when to tell Thor. 

Satisfied that his morning was shaping up nicely, he checked his phone. There were messages from Bucky and a few from Jess; he reviewed those first, thinking they might be about work. The last message from Bucky made him frown. He hadn't realized Bucky was still in town.

He almost called back, but since the text said Bucky was on his way, he opted to wait. Whatever he had to say, it couldn't be important enough to distract Bucky while he was driving. No doubt he'd read something one of the gossip rags had printed now that Loki was a headline again - probably all lies - and thought Steve didn’t know. Bucky was a little overprotective, that was all. 

To keep busy, he started a fresh pot of coffee, setting out a mug for Bucky as well, and put on some music. Loki had already tidied up the kitchen from the night before and washed out the wine glasses. Since they’d been gone all week, the house hadn’t had much of a chance to get dirty, but he swept down the hardwood floors and dusted the bookshelves anyway. Loki’s trips usually didn’t last more than three or four days, but it still felt like a lifetime. Then again, they’d just spent the week glued to each other and a little space couldn’t hurt. At least, that’s what he could tell himself as he passed the time. Finally, he heard footsteps on the porch and a loud knock at the front door. Dust cloth in hand, he opened the door and waved Bucky into the house.

“There’s fresh coffee and it’s freezing, come in.” He grinned, clapping Bucky on the back. “Loki’s not home. He had a business trip, might be a few days.”

“I know.” Bucky’s expression was serious. He looked worried. Hands in his pockets, he waved off Steve’s offer to take his coat, but followed him into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.

“What do you mean you know?”

“I had the TSA flag him. Saw the alert that he was flying to Seattle this morning.”

Steve slid the mug slowly across the counter, his confidence in maintaining his good mood faltering. “Do I want to ask why? How can you even ask the TSA to do that? This isn’t…I mean, you and me. We aren't…you know that, right?"

“I know what it looks like and it’s not, I swear.” With a sigh, Bucky raked his hand through his hair before picking up the mug. He looked tired and there were dark circles under his eyes. “I didn’t want it to be true, okay? It was just a hunch and I was really hoping there was nothing to it, that I was wrong, but Steve…he’s not. He’s not a good person.”

“That’s unhelpfully vague.” He nodded to the couch and moved around Bucky to take a seat. “Look, whatever you think you read or heard about him, just tell me.”

“It has nothing to do with the damn news. All that’s bullshit anyway.” He took a seat in the chair across from Steve, leaning in and continuing fervently. “I went through every single police record. Every arrest report, every court document, everything that had anything to do with Loki. And you know what’s really funny? For a guy with a rep for drugs and partying, he never tested positive for a single goddamn drug. Not once. That’s part of the reason why none of the charges ever stuck. I thought at first it was just money and good lawyers but it wasn’t.”

Steve frowned. Not only was Bucky sounding a little crazy, Loki’s history of drug abuse wasn’t an open topic for discussion.

Undaunted, Bucky kept going. “It’s misdirection. Oldest trick in the book. Everyone was so busy looking at what he wanted them to see that they didn’t see what was right in front of them. All staged, all planted, he planned all of it to hide the truth. When I started digging into his background, it was like trying to find a needle in the pile of garbage he left behind to make it impossible for anyone to put the pieces together.”

“Bucky, you’re not making any sense. He drove a car into the Bay. It’s not like he faked that.”

“He was completely sober when he did that,” Bucky insisted. 

“Why on earth would he fake drug addiction?” He set his coffee down, worried he’d spill it or, worse, throw it in Bucky’s face if he kept going. “I get that you’re not taking Loki and I being together very well. I can see that. But, Jesus, Bucky. Can you hear yourself right now?”

Bucky’s mouth twisted, jaw clenched tight. He gave Steve a miserable look. “He’s a killer, Steve. That’s what he does for Asgard. That’s his _job_. These business trips he goes on? He’s killing people.”

The sound of the furnace turning on was a scream in the silence. Finally, Steve laughed. It came out strangled and unhinged, a sound teetering on the edge of sanity, but he couldn’t help it. Of all of the ridiculous fantasies for Bucky to cook up in his fit of jealousy, or whatever this was, that was the absolute _last_ one Steve had expected. He picked up his coffee again and slumped back against the couch. 

“You’ve been watching way too much TV. Loki’s a hitman? Really? That’s what you had to rush over here and tell me? We don’t live in a spy novel, Buck. This is real life and there aren’t assassins in real life.”

“I know you love him,” Bucky began.

“Stop. Just stop.” Steve scowled, losing patience. “You’re my best friend, Bucky. You mean everything to me and I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I think you need help. Real help.”

“I’m not jealous, that’s not what this is. He’s dangerous.”

“Bucky, please.”

“I can prove it.”

“Come on, Bucky!” 

Whatever leftover emotions Bucky had driving him to concoct this delusion, Steve was completely ill-equipped to deal with his best friend having a breakdown in his living room. Even worse, he could tell from the stubborn set of Bucky’s jaw that he had no intention of backing down and this had the beginnings of a fight that would end with both of them saying things they didn’t truly mean. Or he might end up calling the police, which wasn’t a better alternative. They sat, coffee growing cold, and watched each other while Steve tried to decide if humoring Bucky would cause more damage than throwing him out the front door. He didn’t want to lose a lifetime friendship over this, but he wasn’t going to let Bucky continue to slander the man he loved either.

He’d worked up the nerve, and calmed his anger, enough to ask Bucky to show him whatever proof he thought he had for his outrageous claims, but the words never made it past his lips.

The front door flew open, slamming against the wall, and Loki came through. He looked furious and _dangerous_. Bucky was on his feet in an instant, his right hand going to his left side. Loki’s long legs covered the distance from the front door in two steps. Suddenly there was a gun in his hand and it was pointed straight at Bucky’s head. Bucky pulled a gun from his coat, aimed it at Loki, and the two men went still, glaring at each other.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Steve yelped. His coffee mug tumbled from his hand as he stood up, shattering against the coffee table. 

“I told you,” Bucky said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Why do you have a gun?” Steve looked back and forth between them. “Why do you both have guns? Loki? What’s going on?”

Bucky adjusted his grip. “I know who you really are, Laufeyson.”

“And I know all about _you_ ,” Loki snarled, then he smirked at Bucky. “The Winter Soldier. SHIELD’s rabid dog. Careful not to get too close, Steve, you might get fleas.” He sounded vicious, his words like daggers made of ice.

Cold twisted in Steve’s gut like a knife. “Someone please tell me what the hell is going on.”

“I told you,” Bucky answered, his voice steady. “He’s a killer.”

Loki glowered. “So are you.”

“Steve, I never told you.” Bucky spared an instant’s glance at Steve. “I’m not a travel writer. I work for SHIELD.”

“SHIELD?”

“Covert operations branch of the NSA,” Loki said quickly. “He's one of their best.”

“Why thank you,” Bucky drawled, sarcasm dripping from each word.

"What?" Steve stared dumbly at them both, frozen. "I don't…I don't understand."

"Two years ago," Bucky continued, lowering his voice. "I told you there was a car accident and that's how I lost my arm. There was no accident. I was in Kabul on a mission. And this bastard was there too. He took out my target and left an explosive charge on a door behind him. When I went after him, it blew my arm off." His grip tightened on the gun, his attention going to Loki. "Consider this payback, you asshole."

"You'll understand if the event wasn't so memorable for me," Loki said silkily.

"The name Grant Ward jog your memory any? He was the target."

Loki’s eyes narrowed, then he grinned wickedly. “No hard feelings, I hope. It wasn’t personal.”

The air went out of Steve’s lungs as though it had been ripped out of him and he could see Bucky’s lips moving but couldn’t hear what he was saying. Loki’s words weren’t making sense - _Loki had a gun_ \- and it was like they were speaking a language he didn’t know. He flashed back to the night at the restaurant and his impression of two wolves circling each other, sizing the other up and deciding where to sink their fangs. His head began to swim. Bucky had been trying to warn him; Bucky had been right.

“Oh god,” he breathed.

Unable to look at either of them, he stared blankly out the front window, the argument washing over him. _They’re going to kill each other_ , he thought numbly, and a chill began to spread down his spine. It didn’t make any sense to be cold. He registered that the front door was still open but didn’t move to close it; he couldn’t close it without stepping between their guns. 

Out in front of the house, he saw two black SUVs pull up to the curb and men began to get out. Men with guns. These guns were much larger and more terrifying than the ones right in front of him.

“Guys, guys…stop.” His voice wavered. He nodded toward the window and the approaching men. “Who are they?” Loki and Bucky stopped bickering to look at the window. 

Loki grabbed Steve’s arm and hauled him from the living room. “Basement, NOW!”

Glass shattered in the window and a patch of tile on the countertop exploded into a spray of dust. Steve hunched instinctively, following Loki when he wrenched open the basement door and they all but tumbled down the stairs. Bucky yanked the door closed behind them.

Steve looked frantically around the basement for a place to hide. “Why are they shooting at us?”

Loki still had one hand on his arm and nearly dragged him toward the wine cellar. Inside, he flipped open the control panel on the wall and tapped out a code on a keypad. Behind them, one section of the shelving rolled back, then to the side, opening up a gap large enough for a man to slide through. He shoved Steve toward the space.

Fluorescent lights flickered and buzzed to life above them, casting a pale blue light. He stumbled out of the way when Bucky and Loki followed him into the narrow space. The door whispered as it closed and then he heard a series of dull, heavy thuds that sounded like steel rods sliding into place. Loki moved to a table at the far end with a computer and several mounted display screens. As he tapped at the keyboard, each of the screens lit up with different camera shots of the house. Bucky, gun disappearing into his coat, went to Loki’s side.

There were six men outside, all with guns, facing the front of the house. They seemed to be firing without caring what they hit. The gunfire was muffled; all Steve could hear was a distant popping sound. He couldn’t bring himself to move closer to the screens.

“Why?” he croaked, voice shaking. “I don’t…”

Bucky gave a low whistle, glancing at Loki. “Will this hold?”

“Yes,” Loki said curtly. “There’s no getting in and they won’t be able to smoke us out. But they won’t try. Once they’re done, they’ll clear out. They’ll be gone long before the police get here.”

“Who the hell did you piss off?”

Steve fumbled for something to hold onto and bumped into a narrow, futon style couch. He sunk down onto the cushion. “I don’t understand. They’re…the house. Why are they just?” He could see even from several feet away that the men must’ve decided to put as many bullets as they could through the walls, the windows, and anything else they could see.

Loki’s head bowed, shoulders hunched. He set his gun gently on the table before turning around. “To teach me a lesson.”

“By shooting holes in my house?” He looked from Loki to Bucky and back again.

“I’m supposed to be a plane right now,” Loki continued. Finally, he looked up. “And you’re supposed to be dead. Because of me. Because anything I love can be taken away. You, this house, all of it. Once they’re done, once they're sure you…they’ll burn it down. Because I wanted it.” Loki’s voice broke, his breathing turned ragged. “Because I loved…because…Steve, I’m so sorry.” He turned and slumped against the wall, sliding down to the floor with his head buried against his arms. 

Steve watched in horror as the gunfire stopped. One of the men threw a small, dark object through one of the shot out windows and the men turned back to the vehicles. He held his breath after the cars pulled away, waiting, and choked on a child-like whimper when he saw the first flames licking up through a shattered window frame. The fire spread quickly, devouring the house above them. He couldn’t smell smoke and it didn’t seem real, watching his house burn from the outside. He turned away from the monitors, unable to watch his entire life go up in flames and be utterly powerless to stop any of it. Men with guns had tried to kill him; they’d set fire to his home. Bucky took a seat beside him, not touching him or saying anything for a long time, just staying close. 

Loki was everything Bucky had said he was.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he whispered.

“Just breathe,” Bucky said reassuringly. “Deep breaths, that’s right. We’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna get out of this.”

“Nothing’s ever going to be okay.” Steve held very still. If he moved, if he so much as breathed too hard, he thought the last fragments of his world would explode into pieces around him.

He didn’t know how much time passed. It could’ve been minutes or hours before Bucky left the futon and he heard the low murmur of voices as Loki and Bucky talked. It was a small, utilitarian space, built like a galley style kitchen and, with all the steel around him, he thought he should be able to hear everything they said, but either his ears weren’t working or his brain had stopped registering sound. As he stared at the wall, he slowly began to recognize where one panel ended and another began; there were buttons or latches. He reached out and pressed one to see what it would do, his hand seeming to belong to someone else. The steel panel split in half, sliding away to reveal a three foot by three foot storage space behind the wall. It was full of guns. Hand guns, rifles; more guns than he’d ever seen in his life.

“You brought guns into our home,” he said, stupidly. “And you didn’t tell me.”

It was Bucky who answered. “Easy, Steve.”

“This isn't a wine cellar. This is why…you wanted me out of the house so you could…oh God.” Steve got to his feet unsteadily, bracing a hand against the wall and forcing himself to stare directly at the guns. Shock was wearing off and in its place, he could feel a cold fury building. “This is a fucking panic room. You knew. You fucking knew this was going to happen.”

“No, Steve, please. I didn’t…” Loki pleaded. He came forward, one hand reaching out.

“Don’t touch me!” Steve pulled back, anger choking off his breath. “Do not fucking touch me. You lied to me. All of it. Everything you said. Were you just pretending to love me? Was that a lie too?” He bit down on his lower lip hard enough to taste blood. “I don’t even know who you are.”

Bucky moved between them, his voice low. “Everyone just take it easy. Steve, listen to me-”

He jerked away as though stung. How long had Bucky been lying to him? He was hardly better than Loki. “I don’t know you either.”

Raw and aching, Steve turned his back on them both and curled up on the futon, his head facing the back cushion. He squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could but he couldn’t stop the tears from escaping. Against his will, the memories began to clutter and pile up behind his eyes; memories of Loki and being happy and everything had been perfect. 

He should’ve known it was too good to be true. 

**

The house burned well into the afternoon. Fire crews arrived to contain the blaze and close off the surrounding area, but they must've realized there was no saving it. Water from the hoses turned to ice as afternoon waned and outside temperatures dropped. Steve had fallen into a fitful sleep on the futon, exhausted from their ordeal. Loki opened up one of the wall compartments to retrieve a blanket and settled it lightly over Steve, pulling it up over his shoulders.

"Filtered air or recirculated," Bucky asked quietly.

"Both." Loki brushed a lock of hair away from Steve's forehead. "Just in case."

"Pretty sweet. What'd this set up cost you?"

Loki watched the subtle rise and fall of Steve's shoulder as he breathed. "Everything I've ever wanted."

He hated that he'd been right about Odin, and Thor had been wrong, and that he'd had to use the room at all. But Steve was still alive, still breathing, and that made it worth every penny. Steve hated him now, just as Odin had predicted, but he wasn't lying bullet-ridden and burnt in the remains of their home. That was _something_. Wearily, he returned to his spot at the end of the futon, curling up against the wall. Maybe Barnes would kill him and put him out of his misery, but he doubted Barnes would try anything with Steve in the room, otherwise he would've done it already. 

Quietly, Barnes settled on the floor opposite Loki. "You know I have to take you in."

"You can try."

"SHIELD's not going to let you walk." Bucky's expression hardened. "I'm not the only one who knows. I came here to warn Steve, wanted to try to get him away from you peacefully first."

Loki huffed out a short, bitter laugh. "Home wrecker."

"Figured he was just another cover. Like the partying and the drugs. Was the sex that night for my benefit, because I don't think you're even gay."

Loki couldn't help himself and rolled his eyes. "Why do people keep asking that question? Your jealousy is showing, Barnes. Steve's the best lay I've ever had, but you'd know all about that, wouldn't you? Except, you let him slip through your fingers. At least I." He swallowed and turned his face away, feeling the vise in his chest tighten around his heart. "We were going to get married at Disneyland, you know. That's what he wanted. Like some sort of...fairytale."

Minutes ticked by with nothing to occupy Loki's attention except for watching the monitors or watching Steve sleep; both were agony.

"Alright," Bucky finally broke the silence. "So you really were going straight."

Loki hummed, resting his head against the wall. "I really was. For him."

Sighing heavily, Bucky shrugged off his coat and folded it up to use as a cushion. The holstered gun under his arm tapped softly against the wall. "Steve's like that. He brings out the good in people, makes you believe you can be better. Makes you want to be better. I still can't let you walk."

"I don't care what happens to me." Loki rubbed a hand down his face and wished he'd never been born. 

His biological parents hadn't wanted him. Odin had never loved him and now he'd taken everything Loki loved away too. There was small consolation in realizing Odin must know by now that Loki hadn't been on the plane. Perhaps he’d assume Loki had come here, to pick something up or kiss Steve goodbye. He hoped viciously that Odin believed him dead along with Steve, burned beyond recognition in the fire. When he shifted, the messenger bag dug into his side. He'd forgotten to take it off. He slipped the strap over his head and tossed it to Barnes, then pulled his mother's notebook out of his coat and handed it over as well. 

"What's this?"

"My last target. And a hit list. There was only one name left." He didn't mention Frigga's involvement. Let SHIELD think all the blood was on Loki's hands. "Once Odin realizes I'm not in Seattle, he'll send someone else. That list is personal for him. If we get out of here, maybe you can save a life."

Barnes opened the notebook and scanned the list of names. His jaw set, eyes going cold. "I know some of these names. They're SHIELD. These are...these are SHIELD agents. Alexander Pierce, he's a former Director." 

"Oops?"

The notebook snapped shut. "You're a monster."

"Like you're any better."

"I don't kill people for money."

"No, you kill people for SHIELD. That's so _very_ different."

"I serve my country," Barnes spat at him.

“Oh please.” Loki pulled a face. “Spare me the rousing discussion about truth, honor, and patriotism. I know I’m a monster. I’m not going to wrap it up in a flag and pretend that makes my targets any less dead or tell myself they deserved it. You serve an organization no better than Asgard, no less committed to death and destruction, no less corrupt, no less willing to destroy lives in the pursuit of its goals." He scoffed, shaking his head. "No. You do not get to pretend to have the moral high ground here. We are _both_ killers. We are both monsters. The difference is that I don't pretend to be anything else."

"Tell that to Steve."

"I never lied about how I felt about him," Loki ground out through clenched teeth.

"Just everything else."

Loki looked away. He wasn't willing to murder Barnes while Steve was there and, truth be told, he didn't even want to. He was weary of all of it. Leaning into his palm, he let his anger fizzle out. "I don't want to kill anyone. I never did. I just didn't think I had a choice. Until I met Steve."

"Be sure to bring that up at your parole hearing, but I don't think it'll help."

As if Loki would ever see the inside of a prison. He knew better than that. His stomach twisted when he realized Odin would eventually find out Steve was still alive. Loki wouldn't be able to protect him from inside SHIELD's custody and now Steve wanted nothing to do with him. The only person whose life hadn't been burned to cinders was the man who wasn't supposed to be there; Bucky Barnes.

"Can you keep him safe," he asked. "If I go with you, Odin will come after me. And Steve."

"I can't let you go."

"Once it's dark, I'll leave. Stay here with him and get him to safety if you can." He hoped Barnes could hear the urgency in his voice. 

"And then what?"

"You can come after me, send the whole of SHIELD after me, it won't matter. Just give me enough time to make sure he'll be safe." He could see Barnes' indecision and pressed his advantage. "There's no cellular reception in here but there is an outside connection. Make contact with SHIELD, tell them what's happened."

Barnes chewed thoughtfully at his thumbnail. "You're going after Odin."

It wasn't a question and he didn't need to answer. Barnes knew exactly what it felt like to lose Steve.

"He'll kill you," Barnes added.

Loki smiled. "Then I'll have to kill him first, won't I?"


	12. Chapter 12

Light from the windows of the mansion held no warmth, no comfort or promise of hearth and home. They would've seen Loki coming, recognizing the car as he passed by the security cameras. But they would have questions and that would keep them from shooting him on sight. Going back for the Jaguar had given him time to think it through.

Odin had wanted him to return home from Seattle and find nothing but blackened ruins. It was a brazen statement of power as much as it was efficiently removing everything Loki had outside of Odin's influence. He meant to intimidate Loki with how easily, how casually, he could take back control over Loki's life. This had been his punishment for wanting to be something other than what Odin wanted or what Asgard needed, for rejecting the role that others wanted him to play. Odin had meant to break him and snuff out any hope for having a life and an identity of his own.

He sat in the driver's seat, hands on the wheel, and stared blankly through the windshield for a long time. There was no going back. Steve would wake up and find him gone and he'd never know how much Loki regretted everything _except_ Steve. Eventually, he shut off the car and got out, not bothering to close the door behind him. He walked as though in a daze, eyes not quite focusing on what was in front of him.

There was a sliver of light beneath the office door and voices within. He recognized Balder's voice and he froze, his mind replaying the sight of Balder and his team approaching the house with deadly intent. No one was better at mass destruction than Balder. He forced himself to move again, but he didn't knock, simply reached for the doorknob and let himself in. He counted four men as he entered, not including Odin. Balder was behind the desk, standing at Odin's side. They would all be armed. He wasn't surprised when two of them immediately came forward, grabbing at his jacket and patting him down to ensure he carried no weapons. Their eyes were cold and they were none too friendly as they stripped away his jacket, shoving him forward so he could face Odin while they formed a circle around him. Like wolves, he thought, ready to tear his throat out if Odin gave the signal.

"Why did you abandon your assignment," Odin asked coldly.

Loki forced himself to look away and let his shoulders slump, making himself appear smaller. "You didn't have to kill him. Steve was innocent. He didn't know anything. Why?"

"He was a distraction," Odin snapped, then his tone softened. "A distraction you didn't need. But it's over now. I will send someone else to complete your assignment. You look tired, Loki. Why don’t you get some rest?"

“I loved him,” Loki said, his voice hollow. He saw disdain flash across Balder’s face. They saw him as weak and lost; a bleeding lamb in their midst.

“You will forget him. In time.”

He nodded slightly, head bowing as he turned away. Barely a moment later, Balder and Odin returned to what they’d been discussing before he’d interrupted, as though Loki had been merely an inconvenient disruption.

The man nearest the door, one of Balder’s, rolled his eyes as Loki neared him. These men, Asgard’s elite, had always viewed Loki as weaker and lesser than Thor; only good for the single role Odin had cast for him. He ducked his head, uninteresting and unthreatening, and saw the man’s gaze slide away as he came within arm’s reach. Already dismissed as unimportant, the man didn’t react when Loki went for the gun at his hip.

He yanked the gun from its holster and flipped off the safety as he pressed the barrel directly over the man’s heart. The man’s eyes widened and he began to react, but Loki pulled the trigger. Blood sprayed out over the bookshelf and back into Loki’s face. He was already moving, arm coming up as he spun around and the whole world was in perfect slow motion. The second bullet punched a hole in the second man’s head, bits of bone and brain matter peppering the wall. At the end of his arc, he put three rounds into the third man’s chest.

Balder cleared Odin’s desk, barreling toward Loki before he could fire again. He drove a fist into Loki’s stomach, doubling him over before wrenching the gun from his hand and slamming an elbow down against the back of Loki’s head. Stars exploded inside his skull and he lost the seconds before he hit the floor. Breathless, he rolled away and kicked out, one foot catching Balder’s knee. Balder grunted and stumbled, reaching for his gun. Loki kicked him again, knocking him down on one knee, and then kicked him hard in the face. Scrambling up, he grabbed onto Balder’s arm and wrestled for the gun. He head butted Balder; blood spurting out as his nose crunched and broke. The gun tumbled from Balder’s hand.

Sharp pain tore through Loki’s side. He cried out, seeing the long blade in Balder’s hand. Twisting away, he caught Balder’s wrist as he aimed low and slashed at Loki's thigh. He ground his teeth to keep from shouting with pain and brought an elbow up, hit Balder squarely in the jaw. It gave him the second he needed to grab for the fallen gun. He saw no fear in Balder’s eyes as he dug the barrel into the soft flesh under his chin and pulled the trigger. Clutching at his side, he stumbled back from the slumping body and turned to face Odin. He knew what he must look like, sprayed with blood and rage; he was a monster.

Odin hadn’t risen from his chair and he appeared unmoved by the violence. “Do you intend to kill me, Loki?”

Swallowing, Loki raised the gun and, for the first time, his hand shook. “You took everything from me. You could’ve let me go. You let Thor have a life outside of Asgard. Why couldn’t you let me have the same?”

“Because you cannot help but destroy. It’s in your nature.” He gestured to the carnage around them. “Even Frigga knew this is all you were meant for. Death and blood. This is your gift, Loki. Chaos. She knew you would never be anything more than this.”

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered hoarsely.

“You were tool to be shaped and used for the benefit of Asgard, nothing more.” Odin leaned forward, his gnarled hands settling on the desk. “You were trash. Refuse. So much garbage to be thrown away. I made you _more_ than that. I gave you purpose. I gave you a place here, in Asgard, when you should have died a mewling infant. I made you. Everything you are, I gave you. That’s all you’ll ever have. You belong to me. The sooner you accept this, the easier it will be for you.”

“I wish you’d never found me.” Loki’s voice cracked, becoming tremulous. “I won’t kill anyone for you ever again. I won’t serve you. I am not yours.”

“What choice do you have?” Odin smiled.

The gunshot was impossibly loud in the silence. He watched Odin’s eye grow wide, then he looked down at the blood beginning to blossom over his white dress shirt. Incredulous, Odin brushed a hand over the wound, staring open mouthed at the blood on his fingers for a moment. He blinked several times as he sunk back into the chair, mouth moving but no sound coming out.

“You’re wrong about Frigga. She loved me.” Loki let his arm drop to his side, let the gun slip free of his fingers and fall to the floor.

He watched as the life went out of Odin’s one eye.

Although he hadn’t thought further than this moment, he knew what he had to do next. An alarm would be sounded, if it hadn’t already, and even without Odin, there were still plenty within Asgard who would want him dead. It was a big house and he would more than gasoline and matches to get the job done. He stopped briefly to wrap his side, trying to stop the bleeding from the wound Balder had given him. His head was beginning to throb, making him wonder if he had a concussion, but he kept going, hurrying as much as physically possible.

When it was done, he let himself into the garage and found himself staring at Frigga’s Jeep. Vaguely, he wondered if she would be angry about his bleeding all over the upholstery. He dragged himself behind the wheel and backed out into the driveway, each motion agony.

At the end of the drive, with the guards in their outposts still none the wiser, he pressed a detonator and smiled with grim satisfaction as the explosion erupted behind him. He felt the shock wave from the blast as he accelerated out into the road; the engine roaring and gravel spitting out from the tires. He struggled to keep his focus on the road; his head was pounding and the pain in his side growing to a steady burn. Sheer determination and stubbornness kept him going when all he wanted was to close his eyes and sleep. He was barely able to follow the road signs, certain he was swerving in and out of the lanes as he drove. Dawn was beginning to lighten the far reaches of the horizon when he made the last turn and started down the narrow coastal road. 

He’d made it.

He left bloody smears on the security keypad for the gate and barely remembered to put the Jeep in park before turning it off and climbing out. 

At the front door of the beach house, he stumbled, his hand slipping from the doorknob. His fingers were weak and shaking and too slick with blood to hold on. The pain had settled into a dull roar behind his eyes, which wasn't a good sign. He left the front door of the beach house open. It took ridiculously long to take the few steps to the kitchen, longer to fumble for the light switch, and then rifle through the cabinet beneath the sink for the first aid kit he knew was there. Frigga had always believed in a well-stocked first aid kit.

He could hear his own blood dripping down onto the tile floor as he wrestled awkwardly with the tough, plastic case, his left arm pressed tight against the wound across his side to staunch the flow of blood. The box clattered to the floor when he lost his grip on the handle. 

Gritting his teeth, he slumped to the floor, propped up by the cabinet and little else. The latch came undone easily enough. He fished out a pair of scissors and several packages of heavy gauze. The wound was six inches long and deep; a clean, angled slice. It was serious, but wouldn't be fatal if he could stop the bleeding. Gingerly, he opened the gauze packages and laid them out before cutting through the fabric of his shirt to peel it back. It was heavy and soaked with blood. He pulled his arm away at the last moment, fingers shaking violently, to press the gauze into place. He couldn't tell if the blade had done more serious damage like nicking an internal organ. Already, the fresh, white gauze was turning scarlet.

Hunting through the first aid kit, he looked for anything that would help him close up the slice. A needle and thread, if it came to that. He'd stitched himself up before, but he wasn't going to be happy about it. Grimacing at the thought, he pulled out more gauze and a roll of tape. He cut enough of his shirt to strip it off completely and dropped it into a blood stained heap on the floor.

Outside, he heard a car approach, brakes squealing. He hadn't closed the security gate behind him. He wasn't even sure how he'd made the drive from Odin's to the beach house without crashing the car; it was a miracle he hadn't been pulled over. A door slammed and he heard footsteps approaching the front door.

"Loki?" Thor burst through the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the obvious tracks of blood. He was carrying a gun, held low and at the ready.

Now that Loki thought about it, there was an awful lot of blood.

Thor saw him and, surprisingly, some of the tension went out of him. He holstered the gun at his side as he hurried into the kitchen, taking in the bloody shirt and the jumbled first aid kit.

"Come to finish what Odin started?" Loki's head fell back against the wood of the cabinet and felt too heavy to lift it again.

"You should've gone to a hospital, you fool." Thor reached for the first aid kit and dug through it, pulling out a pair of latex gloves first and putting them on. "For once in your damn life, will you just listen to me? Now hold still."

Loki closed his eyes. It didn't matter now anyway. The house was gone; Steve was gone. And Odin was gone; he'd seen to that. No more jobs, no more killing people; he was free. Strange laughter bubbled up in his chest but he couldn't make a sound. He winced when Thor stripped the gauze away and began to work at closing up the wound. Thor's hands were remarkably steady as he sewed careful stitches into Loki's skin and the flow of blood gradually slowed. Once he was finished with the stitches, Thor cleaned and disinfected the wound and surrounding area - which hurt like _Hell_ \- before spreading a layer of skin glue over the torn skin.

"Try not to move while the glue dries." Thor stripped away the gloves. "You'll have to watch it for infection. I did the best I could."

"Be a dear and pour me a drink." He nodded toward the liquor cabinet against the wall, sighing when Thor gave him a dirty look. "Don't make me die sober."

Thor scowled. "You've lost a lot of blood but you're going to be fine. Drama queen. Do you have a change of clothes here?" He eyed the bloody shirt with distaste, assuming with good reason that it would be unsalvageable.

"No. Grab a blanket from the living room. It'll have to do." 

He hauled himself back up onto his feet to shuck away the blood stained jeans. His head was beginning to clear but it was offset by the steady creep of exhaustion now that he didn't have adrenaline to keep him moving. Sacrificing one of the dishtowels, he cleaned away as much blood as he could and taped a square of gauze over the wound on his thigh, although it had mostly stopped bleeding already. He wanted to minimize how much would transfer to the blanket. There were bruises and he would be stiff for days, but none of that concerned him. He let Thor wrap a dark gray blanket around him and lead him into the living room to collapse onto the couch. 

Loki watched blankly, his mind empty, as Thor cleaned up the bloody handprints and tracks he'd left behind. Evidence, he realized. Thor was treating the beach house like a crime scene. Maybe it was. He shivered and curled tighter into the blanket. His side was beginning to throb painfully. He must've fallen asleep because the next thing he knew, Thor was shaking him awake and pressing a small bottle into his hands. Whatever it was, it tasted like a mad scientist's idea of chocolate created in a lab with nothing but rats and mice to tell him if it had been a success. Loki pulled a face.

"All of it," Thor told him sternly.

His stomach churned now that it was no longer empty. He took shallow breaths, waiting to see if it would all come back up in a moment, but it seemed to be staying down.

Thor settled on the couch beside Loki, not quite looking at him. "Tell me what happened."

"Odin." Loki swallowed. He felt cold and numb. "Odin sent Balder and his goons to kill Steve. Didn't even fucking try to hide it. Shot our...shot the house to hell and then burned it down. I was supposed to be on a plane to Seattle. He said...one last job. But it was a trick. Just pretending to let me go."

"Is Steve?"

"Safe. SHIELD has him," he answered, then slumped a little more against the couch. It was the first time he'd seen Thor look surprised all night.

"And father?"

" _Your_ father." Loki's mouth twisted around the word as though it tasted foul. "He's dead. So is Balder."

Thor looked away, head bowed. He was silent for a long time, fists against his knees. Eventually he got up and fiddled with the fireplace a while, figuring out the controls. Then he looked through the kitchen cupboards, his choices random and distracted. There were a few nonperishable items left over from Loki and Steve's stay. Thor emptied a can of soup into a pan and started it heating on the stove. He looked tired, older, and somehow more fragile, than Loki had ever seen him.

When the soup was ready, Thor brought two bowls and spoons back into the living room, then went back for two glasses of water. Loki took the water but shook his head at the soup; his stomach was still unsettled. Blinking at Thor, Loki tried to force his stuttering brain to work. 

"You didn't come here to kill me?" The spoon stopped halfway to Thor's mouth and Loki didn't think he imagined the slight tremor in his hand. 

"I thought you might've died in the explosion, but if you hadn't, I thought...this was the first place I thought you might go to lay low. I thought the house had been attacked or a terrible accident, maybe. I never thought that you and father had finally..." Thor trailed off. He continued eating, seemingly oblivious to Loki's staring, until he'd finished both bowls.

Loki pressed again, shivering beneath the blanket. " _Why_ aren't you here to kill me? He was your father."

"He was your father too," Thor sighed. "I hate what you've done, Loki. Make no mistake about that. This is something that I...I don't think I'll be able to forgive you." He leaned back and let his head fall to the couch cushion, staring up at the ceiling. "Father was a warrior, a leader. Very few men like him die peacefully in their sleep. Very few men like _us_ die peacefully in our sleep. You're more like him than either of you were ever willing to admit. And I should've known that when you finally went over the edge, it would be for love." He paused, frowning. "I think Father knew. I think he knew before you did. Being with Steve changed you and you don't even realize how much."

"He let you have Jane," Loki said miserably. "He never tried to kill her, never razed your home to the ground. Why allow you to have everything and keep everything from me? I just...I only wanted. Why couldn't he let me have this one thing?" His voice grew shakier with every word, tears stinging his tired eyes.

Gently, Thor wrapped an arm around Loki and pulled him close. "I don't know."

"I was _happy_. Why couldn't he just let me be happy?" A sob wrenched free and it hurt. He wanted to pull away from Thor but he was worn thin and weary to the bone. "We were going to get married. And, and we were going to get a dog when...when I got back."

"You can still get a dog."

Loki shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "Steve hates me now."

"I'm sure he doesn't-"

"He wouldn't even touch me, wouldn't come near me. Said he didn't know me at all. Once he found out what I really am. What Odin _made_ me."

Thor hushed Loki quietly and told him everything would be alright. It was a ridiculous and foolish thing to say, but strangely comforting. For years, he'd kept his distance from Thor; he couldn't remember the last time they'd even touched, let alone hugged or had any kind of affectionate physical contact. He found that he'd missed it, missed being able to take comfort in Thor being there and in his steady, sturdy strength. His tears were quickly spent, fatigue making them too difficult to sustain.

Loki sniffed, too tired to even try to wipe the drying salt from his skin. "I've lost Steve and SHIELD is after me. I have nowhere else to go."

"Let everyone believe you died in the fire, for now. We'll take it a day at a time."

He tried to resist the pull of sleep but knew it was inevitable. His body needed to rest. "Why are you helping me?"

Tipping his head to press his cheek against Loki's hair, Thor hugged him tighter. "You're the only family I have left. And I'm all the family you have left. That's what matters now."

He was vaguely aware of Thor picking him up and carrying him into the bedroom to lay him gently on the bed. Thor stayed, making sure Loki was tucked snugly beneath the covers and settling beside him. It wasn't the same as having Steve there, but he would have to get used to it. Being alone had never bothered him before; he'd preferred it. Now, with the sounds of the ocean and the gathering dawn outside, he hated the idea with every fiber of his being.

"Are you awake?" Thor whispered.

Loki shut his eyes and wished he wasn't. "No."

"Did father...what did he say? Before you," Thor broke off, his voice pained.

"He tried to convince me that mother never loved me."

Thor was quiet for a long time. "Why would he do that?"

"Because he knew it would hurt. Like killing Steve and burning the house down. He wanted to make a point."

"Father and I never fought. Not the way you and he did. He could be cruel. Sometimes, when he didn't need to be. I think, maybe, you saw that side of him far more often than I did."

Loki turned his head to look at Thor. "What will you do? Asgard is yours now."

"I don't know." Thor sighed heavily. "I'm sorry I didn't see this coming. Maybe if I had, I could've stopped it. Could've talked to Father. Maybe he would've listened." Thor didn't sound like he believed that any more than Loki did.

"It's done now."

He wondered if he would wake up one morning and feel guilty for killing Odin, if he would come to regret it as he grew older. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't. 

It wasn't the freedom he'd hoped for, but he felt a sense of peace as he lay beside Thor and watched the sun rise.

**

When Steve woke up, he was still in Hell and Loki was gone. His initial panic was quickly overrun by the sick ache in his stomach. Then his anger returned, which only ratcheted up the nausea. Loki was the reason he was here, the reason everything he owned had burned to ash above them, and Loki had lied to him about everything. His brain couldn’t wrap around the idea of Loki being a killer. It still didn’t seem real, but it _felt_ real. It hurt enough to be real. At the far end of the futon, Bucky was dozing, pressed as far as he could into the corner and bound to wake up with a severe crick in his neck.

“Buck,” Steve croaked. He sat up stiffly. “Where’s Loki? What time is it?”

Bleary eyed, Bucky winced as he twisted, trying to stretch out his spine. He yawned, rubbing at his eyes. “Hey. You okay?”

Steve scowled at him. “I just lost everything I owned and my fiancé kills people for a living. Oh, and my ex happens to kill people for a living too. I’m great. I’m awesome. I am goddamn magnet for…whatever you people call yourselves. Now where is he? This room can’t be more than ten by twenty and he’s not in it. Where. Is. He.”

“He left a few hours ago.”

“He just walked out the door into a burning building?”

“Well.” Bucky shifted awkwardly, not meeting Steve’s gaze. “Most of the inside structure fell into the basement once the floor burned through. The fire’s pretty much burned down and it's iced over. But there’s another way out, behind one of the ceiling panels. It was clear enough for him to get through.” 

He looked toward the monitors, but they showed little beyond edges and highlights of the burned out shell, what pieces of the house remained under the weak illumination of nearby streetlights. 

“Steve, there’s something you should know.”

Closing his eyes, he fought down the sick feeling crawling up his throat. He didn’t want to know what Bucky was about to tell him, didn’t want any more surprises. The only thing he wanted was to go _home_. Except there was no home anymore. No house, no Loki, no dreams about getting married and adopting a dog. All of that was gone and he’d never be able to go home again.

“Loki went after Odin. He wanted…”

“Revenge,” Steve finished. He wasn’t surprised.

He even knew the part Bucky wasn’t telling him; the part where Loki might not survive and had known he might not survive, but went anyway. Loki might even think he was doing it for Steve, but that would be another lie. No, if Loki had wanted to make amends for any of this, he would’ve stayed; he would’ve been there when Steve woke up and that would’ve proven he’d meant a little of what he’d said, that not everything had been a lie. He would’ve known Steve would wake up angry and scared and hurt, and he would’ve wanted to _be there_.

“Steve.” Bucky sounded like he’d said it a few times before Steve heard him. “I contacted SHIELD. They’ll be here soon. It’ll look like a cleanup crew. They’ll get us out, take you to a safe house. You’ll need to go into witness protection. A new name, a new city.”

 _Safe house_ , Steve thought. He’d had one of those. Until a bunch of men with guns shot it full of holes and set it on fire, all because he’d had the nerve to fall in love with one of Odin’s sons.

“How many people has he killed?” He surprised himself by asking. “Do you know?”

Bucky shook his head. “No.”

“And he’s the reason you lost your arm?”

With a heavy sigh, Bucky pulled his legs up on the futon to sit cross-legged. “It was my first mission. Straightforward hit. Target was an arms dealer, trying to sell old Soviet warheads to an extremist group. Got set up, everything was good, and then someone else took him out. Just like that. I didn’t even get a shot off. Went after him and he’d planted a bomb, must’ve known we were there and wanted to cover his tracks. Bye-bye left arm.”

“Missions, targets.” Steve laughed a little, it sounded hollow in the stillness. “Who talks like that? It’s like a movie. A really bad, horrible movie and I keep thinking I’ll wake up and this won’t be happening.” A fresh surge of nausea, pain and anger swirled together into a toxic mix, cutting off anything else he might have said.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky said plaintively.

“Don’t. I feel like this is the part where I say I should’ve known or I knew and didn’t want to believe it. Or guessed at least. Something. But I didn’t. I’m just the blind, stupid guy who wouldn’t have seen this coming if you’d put up signs. That night on the phone. You knew then, didn’t you?”

“No. Maybe. I thought he might be. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I should’ve damn well known about you too. Travel writer. God, I’m such an idiot. You can’t spell worth a damn, Bucky. Never could. I just figured you had a good editor.”

Once was an easy enough mistake to make. Just Bucky or just Loki, but he’d fallen for a bold faced lie twice and that was more than he could stomach. There must be something seriously wrong with him to make the same mistake twice. Either he only saw what he wanted to see or he had a sick attraction to people who lied to him. He’d thought Loki wanted a normal, boring life as much as he did, but that was only because Loki’s day job was so far from normal and boring that he might as well have been an astronaut. The kind of astronaut who went out to discover new worlds and then destroyed them.

He knew he’d replay every day with Loki, every moment, and search his memories for the little signs he’d missed. The odd words, the missing pieces; all the things he’d brushed aside or explained away because he hadn’t wanted to see the truth. He’d probably relive those moments for the rest of his life and never have any answers.

 _Months_. He’d slept months in the same bed as a murderer. They’d kissed in that bed, made love in that bed. Loki had come home after each business trip and maybe he’d shot someone or choked them to death or – _oh God, he was going to be sick_ \- and then he’d put those same hands on Steve.

Thinking about it was making him physically ill, but he couldn’t think of anything else. All he could think about was how Loki had kissed him, how Steve had been the first man Loki had ever been with and he’d thought that meant something; he thought Loki had come out for him, to be with him. He swallowed hard, remembering what Bucky had been trying to tell him about Loki’s past. It had all been a front, a cover, a carefully orchestrated way to mask his reality. It opened up the possibility that Steve had been another cover, another way for Loki to camouflage himself in plain sight. Maybe that’s why he drank so much, because drunk was the only way he could bring himself to let Steve touch him.

He pressed his knuckles hard against his mouth, trying equally as hard not to throw up as he was trying not to cry. If Loki could lie about that then Steve would never know what to believe.

Bucky left him alone, let him cry, and eventually he curled up on the futon again, exhausted and wrung out. He wished desperately for sleep, for anything to stop his mind from going down chaotic avenues of thought, each one seemingly more painful than the last. The Loki inside his mind grew giant and dark, twisting into a monster born of mythology and fear; a dark and terrible Loki who had lied to him and tricked him and who was deserving of all the bitter rage Steve could summon. He shook with it, hands clenched against his chest, and knew it was so much easier to be angry than what would inevitably follow.

Maybe he slept; maybe he had nightmares. He couldn’t tell the difference. At some point, Bucky coaxed him to move enough to open up the futon completely and he laid against Steve's back, holding him with one arm and rocking him like a child. He finally reached a state of numbness that wouldn’t last nearly long enough.

“Do you think he’ll come back,” Steve asked in a small voice.

Bucky’s arm tightened around his chest. “I don’t know.”

His throat was too tight when he swallowed. “He didn’t even say goodbye.”

“You were asleep.”

“Bastard,” he said without any feeling in it.

Of course Loki hadn’t said goodbye. What was the point of saying goodbye to a cover? There wasn’t much difference between that and tossing out an old, worn coat, no longer needed once winter was over. It wasn’t fair for Steve to mean so little to Loki while Loki had meant _everything_ to him.

"We were going to get a dog." He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. "Or a cat. When he got back. He asked...about starting a family. Goddamn it, Bucky. We were...I thought." 

He couldn't finish before fresh tears welled up in his eyes and spilled out, sliding down his nose and across his cheek. Without Bucky's arm around him and the steady bulk of his chest pressed against his back, Steve thought he might have shaken apart.

"Shhh," Bucky soothed. "It's okay."

"W-w-why would he." A sob cut off the rest of his question, strangling it in his throat.

"He would've said whatever you wanted to hear. That's how a cover works. It's not your fault. None of this is your fault."

"You'd know," Steve choked out, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Hey, hey." Pulling at Steve's shoulder, Bucky tugged him over onto his back, looking down at him, frowning. "You know me better than that. We grew up together. We took each other's virginity for God's sake. I left because I was scared you'd get sucked into my world and get hurt. Or that I wouldn't come home from a mission and you'd be left behind. It tore my heart out to leave you. I never wanted to hurt you. And you were never just a cover."

Steve sniffed, vision blurred by tears. "That's why you left me? You fucking asshole. You should've just told me the truth."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." He cupped his palm to Steve's cheek and his skin was warm, the pad of his thumb rough against Steve's lower lip. "I work for a secret Government organization called SHIELD. Got recruited in college. Turns out I'm a pretty decent sniper so, yeah, I shoot bad guys. The hours are crappy and the travel's a bitch, but the pay's okay. And you can't beat the health benefits." He wiggled the metallic fingers of his prosthetic limb.

"See? That wasn't so hard. Jerk."

"Punk." Bucky smiled sadly. His gaze flickered, going to Steve's lips for an instant and his smile wavered. "I've regretted leaving you every single day. Biggest mistake of my life."

"Bucky."

"I mean it, Steve." Bucky's eyes darted as he searched Steve's face for something.

He shook his head slightly. "Don't do this, Bucky."

"Now you know the truth and I don't have to hide anything from you anymore. We can be together for real this time, no lies, no secrets. I know the timing is really shitty and I'm sorry, but maybe...maybe this will be a good thing. When you've had time to think and to get over," he stopped before saying Loki's name.

"Bucky, please. Not...don't do this now."

"Just think about it, that's all I ask. When you're ready to think about it. I’ll wait. As long as it takes."

It made him feel nauseous but he nodded before rolling back onto his side and closing his eyes again. He would've agreed to anything to get Bucky to shut up. They'd always had terrible timing, never quite finding the right way to be together and make it work. And now? Now, anything he tried to have with Bucky would only be a pale imitation of what he'd had - or thought he'd had - with Loki. He could feel that part of him dying, withering away as though poisoned. He _couldn't_ try again. Maybe it was cruel not to tell Bucky the truth, that he didn't think he'd be able to love anyone again, but his tongue wouldn't move and he didn't feel the slightest twinge of guilt for the omission. 

He curled around that simple lie of his own, so small in comparison to Loki's lies, and Bucky's lies, and he clung to it like a lifeline. There would be more lies he'd have to tell. If Bucky was right, a whole new life of lies was waiting for him. 

Damn Loki and Bucky both.

Sleep finally came, but it didn't last. Bucky roused him to tell him the SHIELD team had arrived and had begun the slow process of clearing away the burned out rubble enough to get them out through the basement door. The house was a total loss, whatever hadn't burned was entombed in ice from the firehoses, but he hadn't expected anything else. There might be a few small items that had survived; he could return later to look but he didn't think he'd want to come back.

Gnawing hunger and the need to urinate grew increasingly difficult to ignore. He was grateful for the distractions from his mental anguish, however uncomfortable. Mentally, he tried to make a list of the bare necessities he'd need to replace: clothing, driver's license, his laptop. He would think about what could never be replaced later.

Banging behind one of the panels alerted them to SHIELD's arrival. Once sealed, the room couldn't be accessed from the outside, but Loki had shown Bucky how to open the door from the inside. An ordinary looking man in a suit came through the door, a large paper bag in his hands. He nodded to Steve.

"We need you to blend in with the clean-up crew. It'll buy us a little more time before Asgard knows you're alive. We'll debrief you both at the safe house." The man handed the bag to Bucky and disappeared back through the door.

Steve smelled burnt wood, acrid and pungent, and beneath that, the heavy scent of cold, wet earth. He did as he was told and pulled on a heavy pair of pants and a jacket, all in bright orange canvas with yellow reflective patterns sown into the fabric. The hood covered his hair and there was a mask for his face, presumably to ensure the clean-up crew didn't breathe in anything that would cause harm. Bucky's hand stayed near his elbow as they left.

Nothing could have prepared Steve for the world they walked into. Blackened beams had collapsed downward into the basement like the ribs of a great, dying creature. There was ash everywhere, strewn over bits of objects he could barely recognize and more he didn't recognize at all. With a closer look at a blackened, amorphous pile now frosted with thick ice, he realized it was his bed, or what was left of it. The stairs were mostly burned away and SHIELD had plowed a path through the destruction to install a sturdy metal gangplank leading up to the ground above. Bucky kept him moving, not allowing him to linger too long amidst the destruction or collapse under the incredible weight of seeing the loss with his own eyes.

He was led up the plank, through the smoldering skeleton of the porch, and down the narrow, cracked sidewalk. There was no point in fixing the cracks now. Or anything else he'd planned to do. He tried to remember the details of the fire section in his home insurance policy and nearly broke into hysterical laughter.

Another SHIELD agent helped them into the back of a van and closed the doors. It was warmer inside the car, prompting Steve to realize he was cold. No one spoke on the drive to the safe house and they weren't allowed to strip out of the heavy gear until the van pulled into the rear parking behind a line of condominiums. Another agent in a dark suit met them and led them inside; it smelled of coffee and baked goods.

Gratefully, he used the nearest bathroom, then found the kitchen. Bucky was already there, pouring coffee. He jerked his head toward a tray of fresh muffins before holding out a steaming mug.

"Coulson will be here soon," Bucky said. "It's best to do this as soon after an event as possible."

"An event," Steve echoed. His whole world going up in smoke was _an event_.

"I'll pick you up some new clothes and there will be agents here round the clock so you'll be safe."

Steve broke off a piece of muffin and chewed without tasting it. His stomach protested, no more up to doing what it needed to do than the rest of him. Coffee would be more than he can handle but the heat of the mug in his hands was comforting.

"Anything you can remember will help. Anything Loki said that seemed out of place. Trips he took. If you talked to him on the phone while he was working, even the sounds you might've heard in the background."

"Bucky." He stared down into his coffee.

"If it helps to write it down, I'll find you a notebook or something."

"This is my life, Bucky!" It came out much louder than he'd intended and everyone in the kitchen froze, the other SHIELD agents trying not to stare openly.

He bit down on the impulse to lash out at Bucky and say terrible, hurtful things. The words piled up behind his teeth. Did Bucky want to know Loki's favorite position in bed? Did SHIELD need him to document how often they'd had sex? Should he break it down by hand jobs and blow jobs? Would there need to be a separate de-brief for the night he'd fucked Loki in a restroom stall? He could write it all down, draw out every detail of Loki's body, and _none_ of it would capture how he'd felt coming home to Loki wearing an apron, smiling and holding out a glass of wine.

"It's alright," Bucky said quietly. "Take your time. Take all the time you need, okay? Why don't you finish that muffin and lie down for a while? Bedrooms are upstairs. I'll talk to Coulson first."

"Talk to me about what?" The man who'd met them earlier came through the rear kitchen door. He nodded to the agents in the room and they conveniently made themselves scarce. "Barnes. Mister Rogers. I'm Phil Coulson with SHIELD." He held out his hand and Steve shook it.

"Do you know where Loki is?" came out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Coulson's expression didn't change but his gaze flickered to Bucky again. "We have an idea." He glanced around, seeing one of the tablet computers left behind by one of the agents, and picked it up. After a few taps, he set it on the island counter and slid it across to Steve. "This is live. Just hit the news."

Steve stared numbly for several seconds before he could grasp what he was seeing. The footage was aerial, probably shot from a helicopter. Below, an enormous structure was engulfed in flames, some had to be a hundred feet high. Little of the sound from the blazing building was reaching the microphone and the reporter's voice was full of intermittent static. A section of windows on the second floor blew out in a shower of glass and fire. Rolling along the bottom of the screen was a single sentence that confirmed his fears and chilled him to the bone; this was Odin's house. He hadn't recognized it. And there, in the parking lot, nearly obscured by billowing smoke, was a familiar black Jaguar with the driver's door left open, as though the driver had been in a hurry.

"We don't know if there are any casualties yet," Coulson said. "But explosives were used. If anyone was inside when it started, it's unlikely they survived."

Pettily, Steve wondered if Loki had destroyed Odin's mansion as retribution for having Steve's house burned down, as though a pathetic, rundown bungalow and the fool who'd lived there had been important to Loki. He wondered if he should know - if he should somehow _sense_ \- whether or not Loki was alive, but he couldn't.

"I need to lie down." He turned abruptly and stumbled toward the hallway.

He found the stairs and a sparse, functional bedroom behind the first door on the right. It was hard to breathe. As he curled up on the bed, he found himself shivering and had to peel down the blankets and wriggle under them. He wanted desperately for the day to be over, for the entire week or month or however long it was going to take him to forget everything about Loki to be over. He would've paid any price to skip the agony he knew was coming.

It was worse knowing he had nothing useful to give SHIELD. He didn't know anything; he'd been utterly blindsided. Loki had played him so well and so completely that he had nothing to show for it beyond the charred shell of his home and the shattered pieces of his heart.


	13. Chapter 13

Coulson appeared at the end of the hallway. "Do you have a minute? Or do you intend to guard the bottom of the stairs for the rest of the day?"

Reluctantly, Bucky turned his head away from the stairs, but he stayed in the living room armchair where he could see the bedroom door if it opened. "Not going anywhere. What've you got?"

"I've been going through the information Loki gave you. SHIELD sent agents to bring Jaspar Sitwell into custody. But we can discuss that later." Coulson spared a glance at the upstairs door before sitting down. “Do you want to tell me why you let Loki leave the panic room?”

Bucky shrugged. “I couldn’t leave Steve.”

As always, Coulson remained inscrutable. “Your involvement with Steve Rogers has compromised your judgment on this at every step. You weren’t authorized to approach Rogers about Loki and then you let Loki leave. Do you have an explanation? For the record.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at Coulson’s reprimand. “It was a suicide run. He knew it and I knew it. Poor bastard. I figured Steve was just a cover, you know, at first. But what I saw? No one’s that good. If he’s not dead, I don’t know what he’ll do next. He’ll burn Asgard to the ground if he thinks that’s what it’ll take to keep Steve safe.”

“We’ll create a new identity for Rogers, relocate him. As far as the world is concerned, Steve Rogers died a tragic house fire.” Coulson paused. “You know this means he has to cut ties with his old life. That includes you.”

“No, Coulson. You can’t-“

“That’s how it works, Barnes. Either he goes into witness protection and you never see him again, or he stays and accepts the risk.”

Bucky looked up at the bedroom door, jaw clenched shut because there was no counter argument he could make. Witness protection only succeeded when there was no contact between the new life and the old life. He’d known that but refused to acknowledge it or, if he let himself think about it, he was half ready to turn in his badge and go with Steve into that new life; if Steve wanted him, if Steve would take him back. 

He sagged against the chair, rubbing at the fresh stubble on his chin. The metallic fingers of his prosthetic arm were a stark reminder of how much he’d given SHIELD; he wasn’t sure how much more he could give or how much more they would take from him. He’d joined SHIELD to help people, to serve, and he still believed in that mission, still believed he was part of making it happen. The dream of a normal life was one he thought he’d given up a long time ago. It had been better to leave and let Steve have his chance at that dream rather than stay with him and gamble on an uncertain future. 

Loki had chosen Steve, he realized and it made his stomach churn. Steve had talked about Loki leaving Asgard and doing something else, without knowing what it meant. Steve hadn’t known the cost of that choice.

Riddling the house with bullets and then burning it down was symbolic. If Odin had merely wanted to kill Steve, he didn’t need a scorched earth approach. He could’ve done it easily and quietly; instead, he’d leveled the entire house. That was a _statement_ ; a declaration of Odin’s commitment to destroy anything tempting Loki away from Asgard's service. 

The sound of Coulson’s phone ringing snapped Bucky out of those thoughts and he was grateful for it. He was dangerously close to feeling sympathy for Loki. It was a short call and Coulson stood up after he finished.

“They need us back at the Hub. Now. I’ll drive,” Coulson said briskly.

“I can’t leave him.”

“You won’t. He’s coming with us.” Coulson glanced meaningfully toward the kitchen. “Director Fury wants to debrief him personally.”

Bucky frowned, but held his tongue. The hair on the back of his neck was beginning to stand on end. He nodded before heading for the stairs, his mind already cycling through possibilities. Anything to do with Asgard would be high profile, but not enough for the Director to get involved. It could be that Odin had never been so blatant with civilians before and the Director was re-evaluating their policy toward Asgard. He knocked on the bedroom door, waiting for the muffled reply before letting himself in.

“Sorry, Steve. We gotta de-brief you at SHIELD.” He frowned at the pile of blankets that was Steve. All he could see was a mess of blond hair sticking out. “How are you doing?”

“How do you think I’m doing? Leave me alone.”

“I know it’s hard, okay?” He settled on the bed and reached out to tug the blankets down. “You’ve barely eaten in the last twenty four hours.” Shifting forward, he kept one hand on Steve’s arm as he leaned in close to his ear and dropped his voice to a whisper only Steve could hear. “Don’t react, just lie still. I don’t think you’re safe here. We need to go.”

Steve stiffened, then he shrugged off Bucky’s hand and started to get out of bed. “Maybe some coffee. Is there any left?”

“We’ll grab Starbucks on the way. Something with lots of sugar and whipped cream for that sweet tooth of yours.” He smiled, pleased and a little proud that Steve had played along so quickly. Whether or not there was active surveillance in the safe house, he didn’t know for certain, but this was SHIELD, so the odds were high. It could all be paranoia, but he’d been working with Phil Coulson long enough to know when he wasn’t telling Bucky everything.

He tried to stay close without hovering. They met Coulson at the front door and left the safe house behind. Once he settled Steve in the back seat of the dark gray sedan Coulson was driving, Bucky took the passenger seat. He kept his eyes on the side mirror, watching the cars behind them in case anything was out of the ordinary. 

“I don’t know anything,” Steve said from the back seat, his voice flat.

Coulson glanced at the rear view mirror. “I believe you. This is standard procedure. Nothing to worry about.”

That was an outright lie; nothing about this was standard. Alarm bells started going off in the back of Bucky’s head but he could tell Coulson wasn’t going to say anything in front of Steve. He glared out the windshield, setting his jaw. It could be nothing; it could be SHIELD knew more about the fire at Odin’s than the news outlets. Uneasiness settling around him, he suggested a stop for coffee and they picked up one of the holiday flavor coffees, heavy on the sugar, for Steve. 

SHIELD’s nearest operation hub was on the outskirts of town, close enough for a reasonable commute and far enough to be beyond the congested city traffic. The armed guard checked identification on Coulson and Bucky and, after a short, muted conversation with Coulson about Steve, waved them through and they parked in one of the access controlled underground terraces. Bucky stuck by Steve’s side through the guarded access point into the primary administration building, securing a visitor badge on a lanyard around his neck. Steve didn’t protest or ask questions; he didn’t say anything at all as they took the elevator to the top floor and went through another checkpoint to get to the Director’s office.

"Mister Rogers, if you could wait here." Coulson indicated the small, comfortable reception area outside Fury's office. "I'll call you in soon and we'll get this settled as quickly as possible."

Steve nodded meekly and sat down on one of the chairs, his thousand yard stare adding steady fuel to Bucky's worry. He wanted to stay with Steve, but settled for a half-hearted smile before following Coulson into the inner office. Fury was standing silhouetted against the window, his back to the door. He gave only the slightest indication that he'd heard them come in. Bucky let Coulson take the lead. To his surprise, he saw Loki's messenger bag and notebook on Fury's desk.

"Sir, Rogers is outside." Coulson took a seat, waiting patiently. 

Bucky followed suite. He'd only met the Director a handful of times, nearly all of them formal training advancements or SHIELD functions. The man's reputation preceded him, probably as much myth as truth woven into the stories. 

"Agent Barnes," Fury said finally, unhurried. He turned around slowly, settling his gaze on Bucky. "Hill told me about your wild goose chase." With a gesture toward Loki's items, he moved around to sit on the corner of the desk. "Looks like it turned out not to be so crazy after all. More than you even know. Did you read through the notebook he gave you?"

"No, sir. I read the list of names. That's all."

"It's quite the page turner. Very enlightening." Fury glanced toward Coulson for a moment. "Coulson tells me you also know a little about Loki's mother."

"Yes, sir."

"Then I'm going to tell you a story. It's an old story. Full of heroes and villains." Tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he stood and returned to the windows. "During World War Two, there was an organization known as HYDRA. Hitler's deep science division, led by a man known as the Red Skull. Theatrical, perhaps, but war tends to be that way. HYDRA was defeated, the Allies won the war. Everyone went home. And some of HYDRA's scientists came with us."

"Operation Paperclip," Coulson added. "Scientists with strategic value were recruited."

"When SHIELD was founded, there were even some former HYDRA members brought in. Carefully observed, of course. We weren't stupid." Fury let out a sigh before he turned around and leaned both hands on the back of his chair. "For years, decades even, there were rumors. Nothing we could pin down or trace. Rumors that HYDRA had survived. That it was rebuilding in the shadows. Maybe even within SHIELD itself. Before she left SHIELD, Frigga believed she'd found something. Proof maybe; maybe just a pattern. She thought she'd found a way to weed out HYDRA from within SHIELD. That's why she left."

Bucky swallowed. His eyes darted to the notebook, wondering. "The names?"

Fury met his gaze evenly. "Known or suspected HYDRA. Every last one of them. And the rest of the book is filled with her notes. It's how she found them, how she confirmed them as HYDRA."

"So...what? You're trying to tell me Loki's a _good guy_?"

Fury shook his head. "Loki's one of Asgard's assassins. No morals, no loyalty. Just happens he's done us a few favors and saved us some work."

"But this does cause complications." Coulson leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Frigga didn't come to us with the names. She must've not known who to trust."

Ice settled at the base of Bucky's spine. "Steve won't be safe, will he? If they think he knows something."

Coulson had the decency to look as though he regretted the situation. "If there are HYDRA agents within SHIELD, we can't assume witness protection will be enough. If they know Asgard’s been targeting them, if they know about Loki’s involvement with Steve. That puts him on their radar in a big way."

"Then what?" Bucky's fist bounced against the arm of the chair. He couldn't believe this was happening. "If he doesn't disappear, Asgard will finish what they started. If he does, a goddamn mole might do it."

"Asgard might not be a problem anymore," Fury said meaningfully.

If Loki and Odin were both dead. 

The unspoken words hung heavy in the still air. Bucky didn't say anything. Loki had asked if Bucky could keep Steve safe. At the time, he'd thought getting Steve away from Loki was the only way to keep him safe. Now he felt as though he'd pulled Steve out of the frying pan and into the fire. 

A quiet, hesitant knock on the door cut the conversation short and a moment later, it opened. Steve stepped in, hand on the door handle as though ready to bolt at any second.

“Mister Rogers,” Fury began.

“I want to join.” Steve shut the door behind him. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets, all but shuffling his feet with obvious discomfort.

“Join what?”

“This. Whatever this is. SHIELD.”

Bucky came out of his chair. “Steve. You’re not…this isn’t…”

“Not the life you want for me?” Steve said, challenging. “I’m not going to hide, Bucky. I’m not going to pretend I don’t know there’s this whole other world out there. This is my choice and I want in. Sign me up. Whatever it is you people do. I don’t want to kill anyone but there’s got to be something else I can do, right? And if I don’t even know what’s out there, how am I supposed to protect myself?”

Coulson caught Bucky’s arm lightly, holding him back. “I’ll bring you a recruitment package. We’re always looking for good people here at the Hub.”

Jaw aching with tension, Bucky didn’t say anything. This wasn’t the outcome he wanted. Not even close. But he recognized the defiance in Steve’s eyes and knew it wasn’t about him or them or any of that. Steve was trying to take control of his life the only way he knew how. It broke Bucky’s heart to nod mutely and watch Coulson lead Steve out of the office.

"I think you need a change of scenery, Barnes," Fury said, not unkindly. "How does Eastern Europe sound?"

Bucky was still staring at the office door. "When do I leave?"

**

Odin's funeral made the news. They were still combing the wreckage of the house and pulling out bodies, some too badly burned to ever be identified. Loki's official status was missing, presumed dead.

The first thing Loki did once he could lift his arms without risking reopening the wound on his side was cut his hair. He chose a short, utterly normal and anonymous hairstyle that could be seen in every magazine and on half of Hollywood's actors. It felt strange to have his ears and the back of his neck exposed, but it made him less recognizable. 

He wasn't sure anyone in the nearby town knew who he was to begin with. No one had seemed to recognize him when he'd been there with Steve. Maybe the locals were simply used to people coming and going at the beach houses, never staying for long and never putting down roots. It helped that most people believed he'd perished in the fire along with Odin and a handful of Odin's personal security; no one expected to see a dead man walking around. The fire was ruled arson, but no suspects were named and the investigation quickly ground to a halt.

Periodically, Thor sent postcards, all of them cheerful nonsense about enjoying his holiday at the beach. Despite being out of practice, they slipped easily back into the coded language they'd developed during their teenage years to keep secrets from Odin and Frigga.

Steve was safe, the postcards told him. He was moving on.

No doubt Barnes hadn't waited long to position himself as Steve's shoulder to cry on, reinserting himself into Steve's life and taking the place where Loki had been. That idea was sour and Loki tried not to think about it. He’d known all along that his life with Steve could only ever be temporary, that it had been doomed from the start. A beautiful dream was still, in the end, only a dream.

It got harder instead of easier. At first, his injuries took most of his energy and attention, but as those healed, the invisible wounds remained. He lost hours, perhaps even days, staring out the windows at the ocean, pretending Steve had just run into town on an errand and would be back soon. Nights were worse; his nightmares were full of Steve calling him a liar and a killer or Steve lying broken and bloody on the floor of their shattered home, because Loki hadn't gotten there in time. 

He tried finding Steve indirectly first, telling himself it was only idle curiosity, but it was as though Steve had dropped off the face of the Earth. There was nothing after the fire, although he was reported to have survived. He no longer worked at the small graphics design agency; he was conspicuously absent from all social networks; there was no vehicle registered in his name and no cellphone that Loki could find. It was as though Steve had simply vanished. Thor, apparently, still saw Steve with regularity, which only stoked Loki's imagination of where Steve was and what he was doing.

When he couldn't find Steve, he caved and drove back to the city with a ball cap pulled low, sunglasses, and a thick scarf around his neck. He followed Thor, staying out of sight, and was horrified to discover that his brother was now working for SHIELD. Stunned, he sat in a parking lot for nearly an hour, hands shaking as he tried to imagine what Thor was thinking. As he sat, he noticed the ebb and flow of foot traffic as SHIELD employees came and went for lunch, drifting to the various cafes and restaurants nearby. The creeping suspicion that had been lurking in the back of his mind was confirmed when he saw a familiar set of shoulders and blond hair. Steve was ducking against the cold, shoulders hunched as he walked, waving others on as he detoured away from the group. 

Steve had joined SHIELD.

Once Steve turned the corner, Loki left the Jeep and hurried after him, careful to keep a safe distance. He caught a glimpse of Steve disappearing into a coffee shop as he rounded the corner and he slowed, glancing around for a good vantage point. The coffee shop was tucked into a bookstore; he ducked into the side that led to the books and hurried to disappear into the shelves, circling back cautiously. Finally, he found a spot where he could see into the café seating area but he was still mostly hidden and could get away quickly if needed.

He watched Steve carry a coffee mug and a sandwich to one of the smaller tables and sit down. After a moment, Steve appeared to sigh and he got up to switch seats, moving to the chair that would put his back against the wall. As he sat down, he glanced toward the doors, then pulled himself as far as possible away from the flow of traffic. He looked tired. All of the bright cheerfulness and hope that Loki had loved about Steve was gone.

Loki leaned against the nearest bookshelf, heart aching. He'd done this. After everything Steve had been through, it was _Loki_ who had finally destroyed his faith in humanity. Now, he looked afraid and suspicious of everyone around him, as though any one of the customers might turn and rip off their mask to reveal a monster underneath. He stayed until Steve finished his coffee and sandwich, conscientiously busing his table before he slipped out the side entrance. Drifting into the café area, he let his fingertips brush over the chair where Steve had been. He wanted so badly to apologize, but that would be futile.

He returned to the Jeep and drove back to the beach house. He sat on the couch and stared out at the ocean for a long time, feeling as gray and cold as the winter sky. 

For as long as he could remember, his life had only existed in juxtaposition to Thor's. He'd been as weak as Thor was strong, as rough as Thor was polished. If he were honest, some small part of him had chosen Steve out of spite. He'd wanted to take someone Thor admired and tear him down into the mud where Loki was, as though that would have any effect on Thor. After that first night with Steve, it hadn't been about anything or anyone else. Was this the first time he'd truly loved someone? Maybe. Maybe that's why he felt so empty now, why he missed the jazz music that Steve constantly played. He missed the way the old floors of the little house had creaked and how the furnace had stuttered every time it turned on. He missed the house almost as much as he missed Steve.

When the sun began to set, he spurred himself to get off the couch and make something to eat. He didn't put much thought into what, simply grabbing whatever took the least amount of preparation to be edible.

Dinner eaten, he retreated to the bedroom and sat on the bed, arms around his knees. He could turn on the television, but the noise would grate on his ears. Leaning back, his head bumped against the painting above the headboard and that reminded him of the silver key. He carefully took the painting down and turned it over on the bed to examine the frame. There had been a small piece of tape holding in the key in place before Steve had knocked it loose. Nothing else was remarkable about the painting. 

It was still ugly, he thought, and as he stared at it, he realized that it wasn't Frigga's taste either. She would've thought it just as ugly.

"Why hang an ugly painting over the bed," he mused. 

He left the painting propped against the wall and dug through the bedside table drawer for the key. The half empty bottle of lubricant he'd forgotten to remove was another painful reminder of Steve. He fished out the key and frowned. If there was a safe in the beach house, Frigga had hidden it extremely well. Short of tearing open walls and ripping up the floors, he didn't know where to look. But she must've known he would hate the painting and take it down; she would've known he'd find it. Why hide the key when the beach house itself had been a secret?

Puzzled, he held the key up to the light, as if that would help. "What were you hiding, mother? From me and from Thor. And," he paused, thinking of the list she'd left behind and the men who had died. Odin had never come here and he hadn't known about this place before the reading of the will either. "What were you hiding from Odin?"

His gaze drifted to the window and the ocean. There were steps down to the bottom of the bluff and there was a boat house. He'd never gone down to the boat house. It was winter and he'd never needed to or thought much about it. No one went sailing in the middle of the winter. He hunted for a flashlight before he bundled up in his coat and scarf again, braving the wind off the ocean to venture down the steps to the frozen sand below. 

The boat house wasn't locked, only secured with a wooden handle slotted into a groove in the frame. He forced it back and had to throw his whole weight against the door to open it just a few inches. Sand had worked its way in through the cracks to wedge against the door and bind up the hinges. Another solid shove cleared enough space for him to slip through and into the relative calm of the boat house. He smelled wood and lacquer and a few odors he couldn't place. Swinging the beam of the flashlight around the cramped space, he saw the shape of an overturned sailboat beneath a heavy tarp. The mast and sail had been removed and set on the floor. As far as he knew, Frigga had never been interested in sailing, but there was a great deal he didn't know about her life.

A sturdy workbench spanned the length of one wall. It was neatly organized with tools and canisters of what he assumed were objects and substances relevant to maintaining a sailboat. He wondered if she'd spent time here. It felt as though someone had only stepped away and would be returning to finish their task at any moment. Biting wind whistled through gaps in the wooden plank sides and he kept moving, scanning over each shelf and surface in hopes of finding a clue to the mystery Frigga had left behind. In the back of the boat house, there was a tall cupboard marked with a label for storing paint and other finishes. He tugged open the doors and swept the flashlight beam along each shelf, reading the labels on the metal canisters. The bottom shelf was set several inches off of the floorboards, though he couldn't see a reason why. Kneeling down, he pulled out the cans of paint, wax, and other liquids, carefully setting them aside. He felt along the wooden shelf until his fingers found a hollow along the back. The board came loose when he pulled and slid free. Beneath that, he saw the dull gleam of metal beneath a layer of sand and faded letters that matched the brand name on the key. 

He reached in, feeling around the edges of the safe until he determined it was half buried in the sand below. It was heavy, though probably not due to its contents. He was familiar enough with the model to know it was fireproof, waterproof, and bulletproof; it probably would have survived a nuclear blast if it came to that. Whatever Frigga had been hiding, she'd made sure it would stay intact. It took time to work the safe loose and he had to empty the next shelf up in order to tip it up and slide it out of the hollow in the sand. He hauled it out of the boat house, shoving the door shut behind him, and he was breathless by the time he reached the patio door, nearly dropping the safe onto the living room floor. While he got his breath back, he stripped off his winter gear and made tea, surreptitiously casting sideways glances at the safe every so often. 

Why go to such trouble to hide a safe?

Settling cross-legged on the floor with the key, he considered the possibilities. Perhaps the safe contained the reasoning behind her hit list, why all those men had to die. Maybe it contained her field journals, with details of her own missions that could never see the light of day. But if it were any of those, why leave the beach house to Loki? Why hang the ugly painting on the wall?

She'd left the house to him and she'd left this here for him to find. He knew that the same way he knew he loved Steve; he felt the truth of it in the very marrow of his bones. She'd had a reason for all of this and that reason was inside the safe.

Fingers shaking, he slid the key into the slot and turned. The gears ground against grains of sand that had found their way into the mechanism, but he felt the lock give and come undone. He slipped his fingers beneath the handle and lifted it up. The safe split open, the top half raining down sand as he raised it up.

The first thing he saw was a photograph. It was a picture of Frigga holding a baby. She was smiling; her hair long and free of gray. He lifted it out carefully and turned it over. On the back was written in Frigga's handwriting: _Loki. My unexpected angel._

Tears stung his eyes. He blinked them away and set the photograph aside. Beneath it was a strange mix of paperwork, mostly official and legal. He frowned, setting aside a birth certificate and immunization records. Even the deed to the beach house and surrounding land was there. There were school documents, medical records, a passport, and more photographs. They were all him; he recognized his own face, but the name beneath his face was _Adam Sharpe_ , the only son of Lara and Frank Sharpe. He found obituaries printed from a newspaper for both of them, killed in a tragic car accident. They'd been returning to the hospital to visit their infant son, who had been born premature, small and sickly; still in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. It was a parallel identity, stitched together and painstakingly crafted over years in order to give him a completely normal, seamless, perfect cover.

At the very bottom, he found one of the moleskin notebooks that Frigga had favored. On the inside cover was an inscription:

_Loki,_

_If you are reading this, then I am gone and I am so very sorry that I can't be there with you to explain. I have missed you, my angel, and although I know you must choose your own path and find your own way in this life, I hope you know that I will love you always. And I hope for you to find every happiness this life has to offer. Perhaps I have not been there when you needed me and I will not be able to be there for you now, when I fear you will need me most. I have left behind a chance for you to live the life I was never able to give you. A life away from Asgard. A life of your own making. My greatest wish is for you to be free to become the man I know you can be. The rest of this notebook is blank. Fill it with your hopes and your dreams and your life._

_This is my final gift to you. Use it well._

_All My Love,  
Mother_

Loki clutched the photograph to his chest and wept.


	14. Chapter 14

"You'll be in the drop zone in an hour. The goal is stealth so-" Static popped loudly in Steve's ear and then Bucky's voice came through, following what sounded like laughter. 

"They won't even know we're here.”

"That's what you said in Miami." He glanced up from his seat at the long row of operations stations and waved the shift coordinator over. "I'm gonna hand you over, alright? Sal’s on her way in and I've got an appointment to get my ass kicked by Agent May."

"Hurry up and get field certified so you can jump out of planes with me."

"Yeah, yeah. Come home in one piece, Buck." 

The connection went into standby as the SHIELD jet cut communications for the final leg of the journey. They wouldn't break radio silence until they were out of the drop zone again and Steve wanted to be hitting the showers by then. He logged off his station and gathered up his notes, heading for the door. His replacement was one of the newer recruits; Agent Flores had warm brown eyes and an infectious smile outside of the operations room. They nodded in passing, all business, and then he had to jog to get down to the training floor in time. He knew better than to make Melinda May wait.

It sure as hell wasn't graphic design. Working for SHIELD was a completely different world, but he'd been surprised to find he enjoyed a lot of the work. Unexpectedly, he was _good_ at managing operations. He had an eye for detail and making connections, and an excellent memory he hadn't really used since college. Less enjoyable was the weapons training and hand to hand combat mandatory for all SHIELD newbies on the track to be Field Agents, but he had a lot of respect for both and took his training seriously.

There were other agents in the locker room, some getting out of their training clothes and others, like him, swapping out slacks and a button up for sweats and a t-shirt. For the most part, he knew only faces and the occasional name, but a few had entered SHIELD at the same time he had, although under difference circumstances, and he tentatively considered them friends. Most of them were fresh out of college and still bright with wide-eyed idealism of changing or saving the world. He was pretty sure he was the only SHIELD recruit who'd joined because he'd dated an assassin and had his house burned down.

He'd found an apartment outside the city and he’d started over without a new identity. It was further away from his old life, which wasn't a bad thing, and closer to the SHIELD Hub. Once he was field certified, he could end up at any of the Hubs, but he was hoping to stay. He had a lot of memories here, not all of them bad. Bucky had even talked about requesting a permanent station here.

He pushed those thoughts aside. Agent May would have him on the mat often enough without distractions. Honestly, he didn't know what to tell Bucky other than what he kept telling him; it was too soon; he wasn't ready; he wasn't over Loki yet.

As usual, the thought of Loki created an unpleasant tightness in his chest. It wasn’t getting better, exactly, but it was getting easier to breathe through the clench of emotion and wait for it to fade. A year or so and he might even be able to say Loki's name out loud, but that was probably optimistic. Until then, he would keep moving forward and working his knuckles raw on the punching bags in the training room. 

Grabbing a roll of tape for his hands, he left the locker room. There were two other sessions going on in the room, already out on the mats. His heart sunk when he saw a flash of blond hair and heard Thor's booming laughter. It was definitely shaping up to be a punching bag day.

A week after the fires, Thor had simply walked into the lobby and announced that he was there to volunteer; SHIELD wasn't about to turn him away. He'd never given any explanation. Rampant speculation was that he'd joined SHIELD in order to find Loki, since none of the bodies recovered from the destroyed mansion could be positively identified as Loki's. Or maybe he'd joined to prevent SHIELD from finding Loki. Whatever his motive, he'd carved out a place for himself training new field agents and they were lucky to have him.

Thor saw him before he could duck behind a row of equipment. He waved off the younger recruit he was working with, sending them to the locker room bruised and dripping with sweat, then downed half a bottle of Gatorade as he crossed the room. 

"Steve! How are you doing?"

Steve smiled wanly. Thor had never been one for small talk and he appreciated the honesty more than being coddled. He'd appreciate it more if he didn't have a sneaking suspicion Thor knew exactly what had happened to Loki, one way or another, and he wasn't telling. He'd never worked up the nerve to ask Thor if Loki was alive. It was easier to believe Loki was dead; that way, he didn't have to ask himself what he'd do if Loki ever came back. He felt guilty for wanting it to be easier.

"Jane and I are planning a barbecue tomorrow evening. Will you come?"

"Sure," he said half-heartedly. 

Spending an evening with Thor would be excruciating and he'd be a miserable wet blanket; hardly a guest anyone wanted to host. For all of Thor's boisterous good-nature, he was far more intelligent and observant than he let on. It was a sort of camouflage; the same way Loki had used sarcasm and barbs. The familiarity of it dug up memories Steve was trying hard to forget. This was one of the reasons he avoided Thor, but he had a feeling Thor had no intention of avoiding him.

"Excellent." Thor smiled brightly. "I believe your teacher has arrived. I'll see you later."

Steve made it through an hour with Melinda, receiving only a handful of rebukes, mostly telling him to focus. He knew she pushed him - she pushed everyone - because proper training could mean the difference between life and death in the field. No one got their field certification until Agent May was satisfied that they could handle themselves in a tough situation.

A hot shower helped ease some of the new aches and bruises he'd have by morning. But they were good aches; he preferred this pain over the seemingly never-ending cycle of grief. 

Outside the Hub, a lazy summer evening full of chirping crickets and frog song had settled in. He walked the three blocks to the bus station. It was a well-worn routine now. His bike had been damaged beyond repair when half of the side wall collapsed onto it during the fire and he’d taking to walking and using public transportation rather than replace it. There were days he longed for a vehicle of some kind, but thinking about buying one made him queasy. He hadn’t been able to put his finger on exactly why. It was a combination of not wanting to accumulate more debt since he’d barely scraped together enough after insurance to cover the loss of his house, and not wanting to buy more things he could lose. But he also found himself being more careful with his personal information, choosing to pay in cash as much as possible and deliberately withdrawing from the electronic world where information was cheap and easy to find. He didn’t even own a cell phone any longer.

He hadn’t wanted a new life, but he still wanted to disappear.

It was another four blocks from the bus stop to the apartment complex. The entire complex was gated and access controlled. Given the number of SHIELD agents and other Government employees living in the area, residential security was more than a perk. He waved to a neighbor out walking their dog and picked up his mail from the bank of boxes at the side of his building. 

His apartment was on the fourth floor, in a corner overlooking the community pool and common area. He felt an odd numbness as he climbed the stairs, keys in hand. It never felt like coming _home_.

The key scraped against the lock and he realized his hand was shaking. Gritting his teeth, he forced it still to unlock the door. Inside was cool and dark, the quiet hum of the central air conditioning a safe, anonymous noise. He locked and dead-bolted the door behind him, checking both locks three times before he tossed his keys into the tray on the entry way table. The mail went into a basket next to them. He stopped there, staring blankly at the interior of the apartment. There was no television and nothing on the walls. He’d picked up a cheap love-seat at a salvage store and a wooden crate for a coffee table. The laptop on the crate was new, but he barely used it. He’d planned to buy dish-ware, but he’d never gotten around to it and was still using paper and plastic. None of it was permanent and none of it mattered.

He should’ve known it was going to be one of _those_ days.

Letting his bag fall from his shoulder, he left it on the entry way floor. He pulled out a frozen dinner meal, methodically following the microwave instructions. It finished cooking and dinged without him noticing and by the time he remembered it was there at all, the tray had cooled to lukewarm. He ate it anyway, chewing mechanically and barely tasting it.

Going through the motions was easy; he’d been doing that for months. But seeing Thor and interacting with him as though any of it was normal, as though Thor was merely the brother of an ex-boyfriend Steve had left behind – that was too much. He didn’t think he could handle standing in a backyard with a beer and waiting for a burger while everyone around him had homes and lovers and hadn’t lost everything they’d ever wanted.

He threw away the empty dinner tray and wiped down the kitchen counters even though there was nothing on them. It was something to pass the time. After that, he finally retrieved his bag and emptied out his gym clothes to toss them into the laundry hamper. That left nearly two hours before he could go to bed at a relatively normal hour. With nothing else to do, he cleaned his already clean one-bedroom apartment. He vacuumed three times, scrubbed the narrow kitchen floor twice, and worked at the grout in the shower with a spare toothbrush and baking soda.

When there was nothing left to clean, again, he took his time getting ready for bed. He drew it out as long as he could, dreading the moment he had to shut off his bedside lamp and be alone with his thoughts. But the moment came, as it always did, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

There was the laptop, of course, but that could lead to a sleepless night of mindlessly surfing the internet or reading and re-reading sympathetic emails from friends expressing their condolences. It usually led to digging up old news stories and pictures of Loki and that never ended well, but those were the only pieces of Loki he had left; everything else had gone up in smoke. He didn’t know if it would’ve been worse to have photographs and mementos. Maybe Loki wouldn’t have taken the charade that far; not far enough to actually adopt a dog or actually get married. Maybe he would’ve come home one day and Loki would have simply vanished, leaving him surrounded by memories, and maybe that would’ve been worse. It was hard to imagine _worse_.

“Get it together, Rogers,” he muttered, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “He never loved you. None of it was real. He was just using you.”

It couldn't get much worse than that. Worse than losing everything was finding out he hadn't _had_ everything after all. No platitude or self-help column, or any number of the veiled hints Bucky kept dropping, would convince him that his luck in love was anything but phenomenally tragic. If he did make another go of it with Bucky, it would probably be the very next mission that Bucky never came home. Groaning, he rolled onto his side and buried his face in the pillow. 

It would stop eventually, the hollow ache inside his chest and the guilt over knowing he'd give anything to have Loki back, whether or not it had been a lie. He could live with that lie, even if he knew the truth. He wanted his little, rundown house and Loki and a dog; he wanted it all back with such ferocious hunger that he hated himself for it. 

He gave up trying to sleep on his own and padded into the bathroom to dig out a sleeping pill from the medicine cabinet. He washed the pill down with a glass of water, stopping to watch the stranger in the mirror.

For a moment, he let himself wish Sarah Rogers was still alive and he could still curl up on her lap. A childish wish, perhaps; a boy's wish. He wasn't going to begrudge himself such a small, normal thing. It helped in a way. He imagined what she'd say to him, the way she'd brush her hand over his hair, and that got him back into bed, clutching a pillow against his chest. The Mom voice in his head didn't chastise him for missing Loki or wanting him back; she simply told him it would be okay, that he would be okay, and he believed her. 

"It will get better," he said, his voice hollow and tremulous. "I will get through this."

One day he'd wake up and he wouldn't immediately think about what he'd lost, maybe for a few minutes and then a few hours. Eventually, it wouldn't hound him throughout the day or keep him up at night and he'd find peace. Until then, he'd take it a day at a time. Bolstered by the internal pep talk, he retrieved his laptop and climbed back into bed. 

With the lights off, he surfed the internet for nearly an hour and checked his email. As he was cleaning out the usual glut of sales and promotional emails, he frowned when he saw one from the little antique store near Loki's beach house. It was a delivery confirmation for the desk he'd wanted, the one he'd thought would be perfect for studying. He'd completely forgotten about it. He stared at the date, blinking as though his eyes had to be playing tricks on him, but the email had been sent out in the last twenty four hours. Perhaps it was a mistake; it looked enough like a form email they could've meant to send to someone else and simply put in the wrong email address.

He shut down the computer at a reasonable hour and put it away, but the email about the desk worried in the back of his mind. Maybe he should call the store in the morning and tell them they must've made a mistake. Clearly, he hadn't gotten the desk delivered; it would've gone to a vacant, burned out lot in the city. It was even possible someone had stolen his identity and bought the desk. Stranger things had happened. 

A flood of warm, good memories swept in, edging out his confusion with a mix of laughter and sex and the way Loki's skin had felt against his. Everything had been perfect, that week at the beach house, before it all went to Hell. 

Tossing and turning was the norm; he didn't think much of it as the memories came and went. Some were a little less painful now and he didn't resent the good times or the happiness as much. He chalked up the small victories where he could. He wondered if Thor owned the beach house now, or if he'd put it up for sale. It was well beyond anything Steve would ever be able to afford, but he had fond memories of it. 

By morning, he'd made up his mind to drive out to the beach house and, if he could, say goodbye to those memories. He wanted to see it one last time and drive through the little coastal town again. He hadn't been able to say goodbye to his own house - listening to it burn down around him didn't count - and this would be the only closure he was likely to find for their relationship. And it wasn't as though he had plans other than lying in bed feeling sorry for himself all weekend. It was better at work, when he could forget, but pretending to be okay was exhausting. 

He took only his wallet and a jacket in case of rain, and walked to the nearest rental car agency. Fifteen minutes later, he was on the road, armed with his phone and the car's GPS unit to get him to his destination. Since he hadn't been the one driving, he only remembered pieces of the route, but the GPS would take him to the small town nearby and he could manage the rest. 

Hunger detoured him when he reached the coast. He couldn't handle going into one of the cafes they'd visited so he settled for a fast food drive thru and ate in the parking lot. The town was busier in the summer, more vibrant; he could see families in every direction and hear laughter in the air. He didn't know why he was surprised. Many seaside towns grew leaps and bounds in population during the summer months. People watching grew old quickly; there were too many happy couples and young families.

Getting back on the road, he watched for the house with the red mailbox and the few street names he remembered, making his way through narrow coastal roads into older, wealthier neighborhoods. He hadn't figured out what he intended to do before he turned a corner and saw the end of a familiar driveway. The access gate was open. Frowning, he pulled into the drive and stopped the car. He couldn't see another car, but the garage door was closed. Maybe Thor had sold the beach house after all, or rented it out for the summer. He probably should've asked before he'd driven all this way.

"They're going to think I've lost my mind," he muttered. They'd probably be right.

He shut off the car and got out, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets as he approached the front door. It was exactly as he remembered it. He took a deep breath at the front door, screwing up his nerve to knock.

The instant his knuckles sounded against the wood, fierce barking erupted from inside. He took half a step back, heart racing. He thought about escaping back to the car and trying to leave before anyone had time to answer. The barking grew louder as the dog neared the door; he heard claws against the wood on the other side. Then the barking cut off, followed by the frustrated whine of a dog who wished to do anything but remain quiet. 

"I'm sorry to bother," Steve started when the door opened, but the words died on his lips.

Loki stood in the doorway, looking as shocked as Steve felt. His hair was cut short, with highlights scattered through his curls; he was dressed in a pale blue Oxford shirt, linen shorts, and a pair of black sandals; his skin was tanned, as though he'd spent a summer at the beach. At his side was a svelte German Shorthaired Pointer, its pink tongue lolling out of a wide, smiling mouth and its tail wagging furiously. It whined again, looking from Loki to Steve as if to ask for permission. 

He stepped back and opened the door wide enough for Steve to come in. Although he’d known Loki probably wasn't dead, it felt surreal to actually see him. The moment he was within range, the dog seized the opportunity to lick Steve's hand, its entire body quivering with excitement. When he glanced down to rub his hand over the dog's head, Loki closed the door behind them. He'd kept his right hand behind the door and now Steve saw why; he was holding a gun. With slow movements, his eyes never leaving Steve, Loki slipped the gun into the drawer of the console table against the wall.

"Do you always answer the front door with a gun?" His voice shook and he wasn't sure exactly why.

"A precaution," Loki said smoothly. "And since a SHIELD agent just arrived at my door, not entirely an unwise one."

Steve bristled at the idea that Loki had kept tabs on him but hadn’t bothered to tell him he was _alive_. "Is that all I am to you now? A SHIELD agent? Is that more or less than what I was to you before?"

With a heavy sigh, Loki veered into the kitchen. He opened the fridge door and pulled out a bottle of white wine. "Did you come here to fight? Did Thor tell you I was here?"

"No, Thor did not tell me _anything_. I'm here because." He stopped short when he saw the desk in the living room.

The furniture had been rearranged so the desk could face the view of the ocean and there was a large, plush dog bed beside it. Books, notebooks, and a laptop computer were laid out on the surface. He moved close enough to read the titles on the spines and covers, noting they were all textbooks for economics and accounting. Along the back of the desk were framed pictures and all of them were of him and Loki, together. Numb, he picked up one of the frames; it was a picture they'd taken here, on the beach, with Loki's cellphone.

"I lost all my pictures in the fire," he said quietly.

"I could make copies." Loki held out a glass of wine like a peace offering. "If you'd like."

Steve set the frame down carefully. "You could've let me know you were alive. You could've said goodbye instead of just leaving me in that fucking panic room. And you got a dog! We were supposed to get a dog. Together."

Loki set the glass on the desk and pulled away. "His name is Bruno."

"Did you ever love me? Or was I just the biggest, most gullible idiot you could find? You know, I just keep turning everything over and over in my head and none of it makes sense and I don't even know if that's why you drank so much, so you could bring yourself to let me fuck you."

"What? No, Steve, that's not-"

"I don't believe you," he snarled, vicious and angry. "Everything that ever came out of your mouth was a lie. I can't believe anything you say. Not ever."

"That's why I didn't come back."

The words swayed Steve's anger enough for him to take a few deeper breaths. He picked up the glass of wine and was half tempted to throw it at Loki's head. Then he laughed at the absurdity of it all. "It's barely noon and you're drinking. Of course you’re drinking. That’s how you deal with everything. _You drink._ " 

"There is no way I'm doing this sober." He drank half his wine glass in a couple long swallows. 

"Doing what? What is it that you think we're doing?"

"You're yelling at me, mostly."

"Should I not be yelling at you?"

Loki shook his head. "By all means, keep yelling. I have plenty of wine."

"It was the goddamn desk. The store sent me a delivery confirmation." He let his fingers trail over the edge of the painted wood and the open notebook filled with Loki's neat handwriting. The desk; the textbooks; if Steve hadn't known better, he would've thought they'd merely skipped through time and jumped right to where they'd wanted to be. His voice sounded small when he spoke again. "Was any of it real?"

"I wasn't lying about what I wanted or how I felt about you," Loki said fiercely. "I ruined your life, okay? I know that. It was all my fault and I thought...you're better off without me. And when you joined SHIELD, I knew I could never come back. Even now, you’re thinking about whether or not to call them and tell them where I am. You’re wondering what they’ll do if you did. If they’d arrest me or kill me or if they’d ask you to kill me yourself.”

He hadn't faced those possibilities, not until Loki voiced them aloud, and he pushed them away; he'd deal with SHIELD later. Right now, it wasn't about SHIELD, and the desire, the need, to believe Loki hadn't lied to him was overpowering. The dog and the desk were both evidence of Loki living out their shared dream. Maybe he'd been as stuck and frozen in time as Steve had been. It felt like proof he had meant something to Loki; that he had mattered.

"How many people have you killed," he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Please don't. Anything else, I'll answer, but not that." Loki stared down into his wine glass, shoulders hunched. "Because it doesn't matter if it's one or one hundred, does it?"

"I guess not."

Suddenly weary, he took his wine glass and sunk down onto the couch. Bruno was sitting at Loki's side, his copper colored eyes shifting as he looked back and forth between Loki and Steve. When the dog gave a low whine, Loki reached out to scratch his fingers over the dark brown head, then he made a motion with one hand and the dog padded over to its bed to curl up, still watching them dutifully.

"He was a rescue, in a way." Loki watched the dog settle with his head on his paws. "His previous owner was one of my targets. I...uh...I adopted him from the shelter. It's not." He seemed to think better of whatever he'd intended to say and merely sighed. "So you came to investigate the desk. I didn't realize they had your email address instead of mine. I am...glad. To see you. Thor says you're doing well. With SHIELD."

He almost laughed, knowing Thor was now Loki's spy within SHIELD. "Not much use for graphics artists, but I'm getting by. Learning a lot."

"I never wanted you to be part of that world." 

"You should've given me a choice."

"I knew you wouldn't love me if you knew the truth. I knew I'd lose you."

"You should've told me anyway," he said stubbornly.

A muscle in Loki's jaw ticked. "What about you? Are you in bed with more than just SHIELD now?" He didn't bother to hide or mask his jealousy.

"I'm not with Bucky." He didn’t elaborate. There were details of his life he didn’t owe Loki an explanation for and, even if he had gotten back together with Bucky, that would’ve been one of them. “If I’d known you were here, I wouldn’t have come at all.”

That wasn’t true and it was a cruel thing to say. He used the wine as a distraction, sipping at it while he stared out at the ocean. His thoughts and emotions were too tangled up for him to pull apart and process individually. Half of him wanted to curl up in Loki’s arms and cry, but the other half wanted to punch Loki in the face, repeatedly. None of it was healthy. He hadn’t been ready to see Loki again, hadn’t been ready to face any of the emotional turmoil it caused, and he knew staying any longer was more likely to lead him down a path he’d only regret. He drained the wine glass, pulling a face at the bitter finish, and held out the glass for Loki to refill. 

Loki eyed him skeptically as he poured out more wine. “Should I be worried about your drinking?”

“Fuck you.” 

“You’re angry. Angry is fair.”

Glaring, Steve drained the wine glass a second time out of sheer defiance, nearly slamming it down. “Got anything stronger?”

“Answer one question and I’ll break out the tequila shots.”

“Alright.”

“Why do you want to be drunk?” Loki watched him carefully. “Where do you think it will lead? Other than a hangover. Are you drinking because you want an excuse to have sex with me or to hit me? Do you think alcohol will make it easier?”

“That’s more than one question.”

Loki looked down, picking at the palm of his left hand. “I’m not going to stop you if…if that’s what you want.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? You won’t stop me? What, you’d just lie there and take it while I.” He pressed his knuckles against his lips to shut himself up. 

The expression on Loki’s face was sad and resigned. He knew that look; he’d seen it on Sarah Rogers’ face a hundred times. His anger fizzled and went out in a moment. He’d only wanted a reason to stay; an excuse not to do the right thing for once.

A quiet ring of glass pulled his attention back to Loki. He watched Loki set his wine glass on the coffee table and move closer, on his hands and knees, until he could kneel between Steve’s feet. One hand hovered over Steve’s left knee; he could see Loki’s fingers shaking. He swallowed thickly, uncertain. The rational part of his brain wanted to push Loki away, afraid of what might happen if Loki touched him, but he sat, frozen in place, and watched as Loki very slowly lowered his hand. His touch felt strangely cold through Steve’s jeans.

“Steve, I.” Loki didn’t look up. He took a long, ragged breath before he slumped, head bowing until his forehead rested against Steve’s thigh. “I’m so sorry, so sorry.”

He reached up to comb lightly through Loki’s hair and knew he was lost. He’d been the lost the day Loki showed up to help him move. He kept still other than playing lightly with Loki’s hair, listening to the broken, rambling pleas and endearments tumbling from Loki’s lips. Strangely, it felt as though an enormous weight had lifted from his shoulders. This was real grief; Loki _had_ loved him.

He pushed silky curls back from Loki’s temple. “Did you really want to marry me?”

“Yes. You were everything to me.”

He didn’t have to vocalize the chasm between them. It might as well have been an entire universe they’d have to bridge in order to find a way to be together. He was SHIELD now and Loki was a – retired? – assassin, which meant he belonged in a prison cell. Steve knew that but, selfishly, he wanted there to be another outcome. He still wanted the Disneyland wedding and the normal life, but if he couldn’t have that ending, there still had to be a way for them to be together. 

“I believe you.”

Loki raised his head and met Steve’s gaze, searching. “You do?”

He traced a fingertip along the line of Loki’s cheekbone. “No more lies, no more secrets. It won’t be smooth sailing and we’ll have to trust each other more than ever if…if…” he let that thought trail into silence. “But we’ll worry about that tomorrow.”

A wide, happy smile lit up Loki’s face. “Steve…I,” his voice broke.

He managed a smile of his own. “The haircut is nice.”

“You like it?”

“It’s a good look for you.” Glancing toward the desk, he nodded. “Textbooks?”

“Starting my first semester at the end of the month. Master's degree. Finance.”

“That’s great. Really great.” 

With his anger spent and his fear that none of it had been real dispelled, he was acutely aware of his calves pressed against Loki’s sides and Loki’s hands on his thighs. He glanced at Loki and saw the same, familiar expression Loki wore when he’d wanted sex but was afraid to ask. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. It had been months of sleeping alone, missing Loki and missing sex with Loki. He let his hands rest lightly over Loki’s fingers and he’d intended to hold them there, but he pulled them closer instead.

Loki licked his lips, spots of color appearing in his cheeks. “I miss you."

“We probably shouldn’t, you know. It’s not like we can just go back and pretend nothing happened.” But Loki was unbuttoning his jeans now and he wasn’t stopping him. “We should probably…go slow.”

“Do you want to go slow?”

“God, no,” Steve breathed. 

He nearly hauled Loki up onto his lap. Their first kiss was desperate; it sent his mind reeling with how much he wanted it and then he was fumbling with Loki’s clothes, trying to pull them away so he could touch and taste and get _more_. 

Awkwardly, he got to his feet with Loki wrapped tight in his arms. He led Loki down the hallway to the bedroom backwards, which would’ve been easier if Loki hadn’t been sucking and biting at his neck the entire time. Finally bumping into the bed, he let Loki’s weight topple them over. He fought with the buttons of Loki's shirt, snapping threads in his haste to get them undone and pull it off. The linen shorts only had a drawstring, he yanked it loose and stripped them away, leaving Loki naked on the bed.

The sight was achingly familiar. Steve traced his fingers along the lines of Loki’s ribs, down his sides, stopping at the long scar that cut across his left side. He shuddered, not asking how or when Loki had gotten it. There would be time to talk about that later. 

He let his hand drift down over the vee of Loki’s hip and abdomen to the thatch of thick, curling hair. Loki's cock jumped at his touch, beginning to swell. Pulling his attention back to the rest of Loki's body, he settled both hands and felt his way from hips to shoulders, making sure every piece of Loki was as he remembered. He left kisses on Loki's collarbones and down his sternum, digging his thumbs against his hips as he kissed and licked along the inside of his thigh. Loki shivered and clutched at him, winding his fingers into Steve's hair hard enough to sting his scalp.

"Drawer, bedside table," Loki panted. "Please, Steve. Please, please."

The top drawer contained a jumble of sleeping pills, painkillers, and other odds and ends, along with a half empty bottle of lubricant leftover from when they’d spent the week. Not seeing any condoms, he hesitated. Of course, Loki hadn’t been expecting him to show up and wouldn’t have had any reason to have condoms. He’d barely picked up the bottle when Loki went for his jeans, trying to strip him out of his clothes with frantic urgency and dragging him down onto the bed. It was awkward at first, a tangle of knees and elbows as they found their way into an old, familiar position. He settled onto his forearms for balance, Loki’s legs pressed solidly against his sides.

“You don’t have to do this to prove you loved me.” He left gentle kisses across Loki’s collarbone. “Or because you feel guilty.”

“How drunk do we have to be for you to believe I really want this?”

Steve nipped at his throat. “I spent the last five months thinking you were actually straight.”

“Is that what bothered you the most? That I was faking it in bed?” Loki sounded amused. “I’m not _that_ good a liar.” 

Steve fumbled for the bottle of lube, leaning onto his left arm as he poured it out over the fingers of his right hand. Loki adjusted easily, anticipating his next move, and his eyes fluttered closed when Steve pressed two fingers against his asshole, drawing small, teasing circles. He felt Loki react each time his fingers caught against the sensitive rim and a full body shiver went through Loki as he pressed in. It was nearly an out of body experience; he could feel Loki's muscles tightening around his fingers and he was aware of a hundred physical sensations, a dozen places where they connected. Loki whimpered, his forehead pressed into Steve's shoulder, his whole body rocking with the motion of Steve's hand.

“I love you,” he whispered against Loki’s hair. “God help me, I never stopped loving you.”

“Steve.” Loki’s voice broke off in what sounded like a sob. His arms tightened around Steve’s shoulders. 

He hushed Loki softly, holding him close and rocking him as he quaked and cried. There was no doubt in his mind that this was _real_. Rolling to his side, he settled Loki against his chest in the same, familiar embrace that had filled their hours and nights together. Sex could wait; he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I love you,” Loki said brokenly, his voice muffled.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in the smell of shampoo, salt spray, and Loki’s skin. “We’re going to be okay.”

SHIELD be damned. Even if all the odds were stacked against them, they would _make_ their own happily ever after.

**

Bucky tasted blood as he blinked his eyes open. Gasoline fumes made it hard to breathe and he struggled to move, his brain sluggish but recognizing that gas fumes meant danger. He had to move before a stray spark or heat source ignited them.

Had they been shot down?

He crawled blindly, feeling his way through twisted metal and broken bodies. There were no pulses or signs of life; he checked each one of them. But there weren’t as many bodies as there should have been if everyone had died in the crash. That meant survivors. Either they’d left him behind or they’d been taken. Neither possibility was particularly comforting. The jet had a beacon; SHIELD would know when and where it had gone down. They’d send help, a rescue; something.

Focusing on that, he pushed himself to keep moving. Once he was clear of the wreckage, he dragged himself up onto his feet. The glare of the sun stung his eyes, sending him stumbling toward the relative shelter of the trees. From the wide slough of snapped and broken trunks, he guessed the jet had been brought down hard and plowed its way through the forest. The wings had been torn apart and strips of the jet’s side panels were peeled back or gone completely. He was amazed anyone had survived and wondered if the missing crewmembers had been ripped or tossed from the plane before it came to rest. He started that direction in case there were other survivors. 

Why couldn’t he remember what had happened?

They’d signed off, gone into radio silence, and his mind was a blank after that. His watch was still working and it was telling him he’d lost nearly fourteen hours. There was a dull, throbbing pain at the base of his skull and when he carefully felt out the back of his head, his fingers came away with flakes of dried blood. He slumped against a nearby tree, legs shaking and head swimming. The ticking of twisted metal was the loudest sound in the still forest.

No birds.

His mind seized on that one small detail with desperate tenacity. Hazily, he looked around and tried to think of why it mattered, why a tiny voice in the back of his head was all but screaming that he needed to pay attention to the damn birds.

A distant howl cut through the air and his skin went cold. Not wolves, he thought, dogs. But dogs had teeth enough to get the job done and dogs meant hunters, or worse. They’d been on approach toward a suspected HYDRA stronghold and he doubted there would be any friendly faces for miles. He wouldn’t be able to outrun the dogs and, while the odds of beating their sense of smell weren’t exactly zero, they weren’t good either, not without supplies and preparation and knowing a lot more about his surroundings. That left him with only one viable option. He had to dig in and be prepared for whatever was coming.

Gritting his teeth, he spurred himself on. He had to salvage anything he could from the wreckage of the plane, enough to give himself a fighting chance. If he could hold them off and wait them out, SHIELD would come. They had to come. He refused to think about the alternative; if SHIELD believed everyone on the jet had died in the crash. He would survive and he was going to go home again, no matter what he had to do to get there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be at least one more chapter. Maybe two more if the next one keeps getting longer, which, you know, they tend to do when one is storming a castle.


	15. Chapter 15

A message lit up the surface of Loki’s phone, briefly illuminating the bedroom. He slipped reluctantly from Steve’s embrace, stretching out a catch in his shoulder as he sat up and picked up the phone. There was a voicemail from Thor. Frowning, he left the bed and hunted for his shorts as he listened to the message.

“I’m on my way to the beach house, about ten minutes out. I need your help. We’ll talk when I get there.”

He heard the soft sounds of claws against the hardwood floor and absently scratched Bruno’s head when the dog bumped his hand. Better to be in the living room when Thor arrived rather than wake Steve in the middle of the night. He shut the bedroom door quietly behind him, a smile on his lips. He’d missed the sex; every little ache in his body felt like utter satisfaction. Even better, the cold, hollow feeling that had settled into his chest after the fire had been replaced by a warm comfort. Steve loved him; Steve knew the truth and _still_ loved him. 

Bruno followed, tail wagging in hope of treats, as he started coffee brewing. Thor wouldn’t have risked coming out to the beach house in the middle of the night if it weren’t important and there wasn’t much on the list of what Thor couldn’t handle on his own. Loki couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t synonymous with _apocalypse_. Absently, he set out mugs on the kitchen island and fetched a handful of small dog treats for Bruno, handing them out between enthusiastic lickings.

The coffee had finished when he heard Thor’s car in the driveway and the front door opened as he was filling the two mugs. Thor carried a thick brown folder and a long roll of heavy paper, probably a map or chart of some kind.

“Whose car is outside?” Thor set his things down before accepting the coffee.

Loki side-stepped the question. “It’s a rental. What is so important you had to come all this way?”

“SHIELD lost contact with a jet during a reconnaissance mission.” Motioning to the long paper cylinder, Thor began to unroll it over the kitchen island. It was a high definition satellite map with coordinates and air traffic patterns printed over the landscape. He opened the folder as well, pulling out a stack of a dossiers and a handful of markers. Picking up a red marker, he scanned over the map for a moment before jotting down a series of Xs over a swatch of dark green forest. “They were already in radio silence, supposed to re-establish contact within two hours but never did. Another pass revealed debris, starting here, extending approximately to here. The pilot must've had some control to bring it down as well as they did so there's a chance the crew survived.”

Loki leaned over the island to get a better look. “Not a good place to go down. How much of the plane held together?”

“We weren’t able to get a good look until well after the crash ignited a forest fire so we don't know for sure. It’s likely any survivors moved away from the plane, back toward the border, before we were able to get eyes on the site.”

“ _We_?” Loki raised his eyebrows. “I’m assuming SHIELD had business in the area, but I’m guessing it wasn’t technically legal.”

“Not illegal, but sensitive,” Thor said diplomatically. He picked up another marker and swirled a circle over a manmade structure that appeared to be within ten miles of the crash site. “There's an old World War Two bunker set into the foothills, here. Suspected to be in the hands of HYDRA now.”

“HYDRA?”

He looked away for a moment, then straightened up and met Loki’s gaze directly. “You really never asked father anything about who you were killing, did you?”

Loki shrugged. “I really didn’t want to know.”

“As it turns out, you did SHIELD a favor. It’s best I leave it at that, for now. What you need to know is that this bunker will be heavily fortified and it was part of a weapons manufacturing plant during the war.”

“Why do I need to know that?"

“Because we have reason to believe any survivors may have been captured and taken here. SHIELD is working an extraction plan and needs a small team to infiltrate the bunker. And maybe a miracle to get out again. HYDRA has every advantage here.” Thor tapped the end of the marker against the map. “I may have mentioned that I knew someone with a rather uncanny ability to get in and out of places just like this.”

Loki paused, coffee halfway to his mouth. “Did you,” he said dryly.

“You’re the best. Always have been.”

“I have no interest in working for SHIELD.”

“This isn’t a recruitment. It’s one time. It’s saving lives.”

“It’s never one time, Thor. That’s not how it works, you know that.” He didn’t want to think about the ramifications of what Thor was suggesting. Anyone with half a brain would’ve surmised that Thor was alluding to Loki in the first place, which meant his status of _presumed dead_ with SHIELD would now be questioned.

“I need you on this one, Loki,” Thor implored.

“No.”

Both Loki and Thor jumped at the sound of another voice. Thor’s eyes widened when he saw Steve standing in the doorway. Steve’s hair was mussed and he was dressed only in a pair of boxers. His arms were folded over his chest, his jaw set tight. Loki made a show of drinking his coffee and reaching for the dossiers, scanning over their cover pages. 

“Loki got out of that life for a reason,” Steve continued, moving to Loki’s side and letting a hand rest on his lower back. “He’s not going back.”

“How long have you…” Thor trailed off.

“About twelve hours.”

Loki caught sight of a familiar name and sighed. He should’ve known. And he now doubted it had been a simple reconnaissance mission; SHIELD had no reason to send the Winter Soldier on such a mundane errand. “Steve. It’s alright.”

“You’re not doing this, Loki. SHIELD can’t know about you.”

“Bucky was on the plane.” Sliding one of the dossiers over, Loki left it there and moved to the cupboard for another mug. He poured out the coffee and added cream and sugar before coming back to the island, setting the mug down beside the dossier. Steve looked stricken, as though someone had knocked the breath out of him. 

“I was…I talked to him. I was his last contact in operations.” Steve stared at the map and then looked to Thor. "How?"

“They were shot down,” Thor answered.

Steve frowned, shaking his head. “HYDRA would’ve had to know they were coming. Would’ve had to have known their flight path.”

“We know there are HYDRA agents within SHIELD.” Thor glanced quickly at Loki, then ran his hands along one section of the map. “They do have a blind spot. Not much of one, but enough that a few people could get close without being seen.”

Leaning in, Steve scrutinized the small details of the map. “They’ll have thought about that.”

“The terrain is treacherous. They’d be more likely to lose men trying to defend it. We don’t think they have the manpower to cover it all, not without raising flags with the local populace, which they haven’t done. Most of the surrounding villages believe the site has been abandoned since the war.” Thor hunted through the stack of dossiers for a set of slick, close-up prints. He laid them out around the image of the bunker, pointing out geographic markers.

A line of cliffs at the far end of the bluff caught Loki’s attention. He reached out to tap a spot on the map. “What’s here? Old mines, caves. Anything? Could be an access point.”

“No,” Steve said softly. He laid a hand over Loki’s. “Even knowing about this puts you at risk.”

“I want to help.” He pulled his hand away to hide behind his coffee. “And maybe I can do something good. For a change.” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. It wouldn’t be making amends or any sort of redemption, but using his talents to help people had to be worth something in the karma department.

“I’ll go.”

Loki choked on his coffee. “Like Hell you will.”

“He’s my friend and I’m SHIELD, you’re not. I’m going.”

“Thor, could you talk some sense into his thick skull? He is not going.” He scowled at Steve, who glared stubbornly back. Thor had the gall to look amused. Loki shook his head. “You’d only get yourself killed.”

“And you won’t?”

“I can take care of myself.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Remember the night you showed up at my house after you’d been hit by a car?”

“You’re going to bring that up now?”

“You walked in front of a car.”

“On purpose.”

Steve stared at him, mouth falling open. “Are you _insane_?”

“It wasn’t going very fast.”

Glowering, Steve turned back to the map, muttering under his breath. “We will continue this conversation later.”

Loki leaned his elbows on the map. “Thor came to me for help. You just happened to be here or you wouldn’t even know about this. I’ll bring your Bucky back in one piece, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“As if I’m going to let the two of you be alone in the same room ever again. Last time, you nearly had a shoot-out in our living room,” Steve snapped. “And _my_ Bucky? What’s that supposed to mean?”

A piercing whistle cut their bickering short and Thor gave them both a stern look. “Save it for therapy, which you clearly need. Right now, there are people who need our help. Since I can’t trust either of you not to do something stupid on your own, you’re both coming. Now, let’s put our heads together and figure out how to get this done.”

Loki felt Steve’s hand settle on his back a moment later and tried not to smile, keeping his focus on the map as Thor sketched out his proposal. He was a little surprised, though he thought he shouldn’t be, when Steve had several creative and insightful suggestions. By two in the morning, they had a solid plan. Thor left them with the map and files, heading home to get a few hours of sleep and to coordinate with SHIELD while he arranged for resources from Asgard to aid them. 

Steve replaced Loki’s coffee with a mug of herbal tea. “Thor didn’t really leave Asgard, did he?”

“Thor _is_ Asgard. It’s not something he can leave.” He followed Steve into the living room to curl up on the couch. After they were settled, wound around each other like two trees growing entwined, Bruno hopped up and made himself comfortable draped over their legs.

Steve yawned, shifting and adjusting to get as close to Loki as humanly possible. “No more walking into traffic."

“No going on SHIELD missions and getting shot down.”

“Point taken,” he said grudgingly. He was quiet for a long time, nearly long enough that Loki thought he’d fallen asleep. “I have to relearn everything about you. I’ve only seen one side of you and now I’m seeing the other sides too.”

“I’m still me.”

“I know, I know. It’s not that,” Steve paused, thinking. “It changes how I look at you though, how I see you. I don’t think it’s a bad thing, not really. It’s more…more like I only saw you in black and white before, and now you’re in color. That probably doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s not an improvement,” Loki said, grimacing. He would’ve preferred Steve to remain in ignorance.

Shifting, Steve kissed his forehead lightly, tugging at his hair. “You’re not Mother Teresa. But no one is, except Mother Teresa. And it can be better, right? Now that you’re,” he paused, sighing. “Anything I say is going to sound terrible and I don’t know which of us is worse. You, for what you’ve done, or me, for wanting to be with you more than I care about what you've done. Probably me. It’s going to take some time to figure out how to get back to normal.”

Loki nestled closer, slipping an arm around Steve’s waist. “What if we never have a normal life?”

“We’ll find a normal that works for us.” He smiled, turning to kiss Loki’s forehead. “Our normal just happens to include rescue missions.” The smile faded, no doubt because he was thinking about why the rescue mission was needed.

“We’ll find him,” Loki said softly.

Steve nodded and his grip on Loki tightened. "Thank you. I know Bucky's not your favorite person in the world."

"I'm hardly his favorite either." Loki let his eyes fall closed listening to the steady rhythm of Steve's heart. "But you're his favorite, and mine, so that gives us something in common."

"It's going to be hard to keep SHIELD from finding out about you if you do this. It's a big risk to take."

"I know."

With a sigh, Steve reached up to comb his fingers through Loki's hair. "I just got you back. We've barely had any time and this...this is too soon. It's not fair."

"I'm sorry."

"I was so angry with him, and with you. But he thought he was protecting me and this is exactly what he didn't want. I get it now. This is terrifying and awful. And it's even worse knowing I could lose both of you if we do this." His voice turned rough. "I hate this. But I hate knowing I was sitting home like an idiot all the time too."

Loki pushed up on his elbow, ignoring Bruno's whine of displeasure that he was moving and disrupting the dog’s nap. "For what it's worth, knowing you were waiting at home kept me focused on getting home. I'm sure it was the same for him."

"I won't stay here and be useless. If something happens to you-"

Stopping that sentence with a gentle kiss, Loki let his fingers brush slowly down the line of Steve's jaw. There was nothing he could say to ease Steve's mind, no words to make it easier for him to face this new, uncertain reality, so he didn't try. As much as he loathed the idea of Steve coming with them, this wasn't an argument that could be won. Only months ago, Steve had been an artist; he wasn't ready to attempt this kind of operation even by SHIELD's standards. However, telling Steve he wasn't ready wouldn't help either of them and all he would gain by forcing him to remain behind would be Steve's resentment. He’d chosen to plunge into a wild unknown rather than return to a normal life and all Loki could do now was ensure Steve had better odds of surviving.

He pushed aside any thought that didn't revolve around Steve's lips or the slight, soft catches in his breath. He drew light arcs over Steve's cheek with this thumb, then curled his hand behind Steve's neck to knead out the tension from taut tendons and muscles. 

Once he'd kissed Steve breathless, he turned his attention to leaving light kisses over Steve's throat and shoulders. Steve's eyes fluttered and stayed closed, his fingers dragging through Loki's hair in a sporadic rhythm indicative of his fatigue. It felt quiet and intimate; Loki relished every moment as Steve drifted toward sleep. They would wake up later with twinges in joints and odd pains from sleeping on the couch like this, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

**

The noise of the helicopter was enough to rattle Steve’s bones. He held onto the harness with a death grip. It was a small crew; the only people he knew were Thor and Loki. Thor was seated across the narrow aisle, his head bent in a shouted conversation with the shorter, dark-haired man beside him. To Steve’s right, Loki was somehow managing to sleep, or at least appear to be sleeping, through the noise and turbulence. He seemed utterly at ease dressed in head to toe black tactical gear, which made Steve’s stomach do strange somersaults every time he looked over.

He felt out of place in the group, all of them quite obviously more used to flying through the night in a military aircraft, strapped in and armed to the teeth, than he was. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to this kind of thing. His gear was heavy and he was already wondering how long he’d be able to keep up through the forest and boulder fields they’d be traversing, but he kept his mouth shut and tried not to openly stare. There was only one woman, but even she looked like she could take him down with her pinky finger. 

The helicopter banked and he bumped into Loki, who opened an eye to peer around. He glanced at his watch before catching Steve’s attention with a touch and motioning toward the side of the cargo hold as he unbelted himself from the jump seat. Steve followed, heart hammering against the inside of his ribcage. He knew the plan, but knowing what he needed to do and doing it were two very different things. 

When the helicopter came into position, still swaying more than he would've liked, Loki hauled open the cargo door. Steve moved to the space beside him to give Thor plenty of room to set up the drop rope. The wind tugged at his clothes and hair with vicious intent, trying to tear him out of the metal shell and dash him to pieces on the rocks below. Loki reached out to work the harness around Steve’s waist, hooking them together and to the rope. Below them, the rope tumbled down into darkness and Steve felt dizzy at the sight of it.

“Hold onto me,” Loki shouted into his ear.

Steve did as he was told, pressing tight to Loki’s side. The look on Loki’s face was one he’d never seen before. He didn’t know if the wild, ferocious smile was terrifying or a turn on; maybe both and that only made it more confusing. Then they were falling away from the rattling noise of the helicopter, cold hair stinging at his face as they plummeted toward the ground. They slowed smoothly and he saw the ground outlined in moonlight before his boots struck solid rock. Loki had them untethered and moving away in a matter of seconds, keeping one hand on Steve’s arm. Overhead, the helicopter swung away, heading for the southern slope where Thor would land. Here, Loki and Steve were in the shadow of the mountain and moving toward an old drainage line from the bunker. Several miles away was an official SHIELD envoy lighting up the forest with floodlights and dozens of diplomatic and security forces, making sure that all eyes would be on them while the others slipped in through a back door.

Forest sounds of insects and creatures rustling in the dark settled around them. Steve dug out a pair of high tech night vision goggles and put them on. Loki was already wearing his, along with a dark mask over the lower half of his face. There was a mask for Steve as well, but it made him feel claustrophobic. They kept silent and Loki led the way through the forest, angling down and across the slope toward a gap in the bluff. The drainage pipe emptied out over a deep ravine with a river at the bottom. It would be treacherous to find their way down over the edge in the dark, but it was their best chance to infiltrate the bunker undetected.

He had a hundred questions he wanted to ask Loki: whether he’d done anything like this before, how often he did things like this, and if he wished he’d left Steve at home. Now that he was here, he felt foolish for insisting he come along; it was starkly apparent how out of his element he truly was. Rather than let those thoughts weave fear, he stomped them out. He was here now and second-guessing himself would only put them at risk. His mission was to watch Loki’s back and he was going to do that, no matter what. This was his chance to be sure Loki would be coming home, with Bucky in tow, and he was going to grab onto that chance with both hands.

Once they reached the edge of the bluff, Loki crouched at the edge, his gaze moving slowly around them as he examined their options. High definition satellite photos were good, but even those weren’t the whole story. They’d known before they left that they might get here and have to turn back. He held his breath until Loki sloughed off the pack he was carrying and dug out the tools he needed to set an anchor.

Steve stayed out of the way while Loki worked, watching the forest they’d come from and watching the sky; there was a distant glow from SHIELD’s pretense at a recovery operation. Once the anchor was set, he followed Loki’s direction to the letter, dropping down over the side of the bluff and making his way toward the edge of the drainage pipe. His boots scuffed against the rocks and sent trickles of gravel cascading toward the murmuring river at the bottom. He felt as much as heard the change when he struck the top of the pipe and hurried to swing himself inside the wide mouth, yanking on the rope to let Loki know he’d reached their destination. Slowly, he crept forward, trying not to splash in the low pools of stagnant water. His nose wrinkled at the smell of dank, decay, and waste. He pulled out the mask and settled it over his nose and mouth, hooking it into place behind his head, and the foul smell faded. Behind him, Loki’s boots hit the pipe with a muted ring and he slipped silently over the edge.

With Loki taking the lead, they crept deeper into the pipe, forcing or cutting their way through debris and a metal grate. Even through the mask, Steve could tell the smell was getting worse; his eyes were watering behind the goggles. He thought they’d gone half a mile, maybe more, when Loki stopped and directed his attention to the bottom of an access ladder in the top of the pipe above them. Steve was about to risk speaking when Loki leapt up to catch the bottom rung of the ladder and hoisted himself up, leaving Steve with no choice but to follow.

Maybe he should get used to Loki surprising him.

He caught the rung on his first try, just barely, and nodded his thanks when Loki reached down to catch his wrist, holding him long enough to get a solid grip. Determined, he scrambled up, wedging his shoulders against the sides of the narrow tunnel until he could shimmy up the ladder after Loki. The metal rungs were rough with corrosion and he felt sharp edges catch at his gloves. He hardly realized Loki had stopped climbing until his knuckles brushed against the sole of Loki’s boot on the next rung. He went still, waiting.

Above him, he heard metal scraping against stone and a sickly yellow light filtered down into the access shaft. He watched Loki disappear through the opening, his boots the last part of him to go, before he continued cautiously up the ladder toward the circle of dim light. This was the point of no return, where they ventured into the heart of the old bunker and there was no going back. He tried not to think about the possibility that they might never get out again.

He emerged into a cramped, narrow space that appeared to be the far end of a utility or maintenance room. The light was coming from a single bulb on the other side of the room, some sort of emergency lamp. All of the other bulbs appeared to have burned out long ago and it was probably only by chance they’d found any light at all. He moved aside quickly so Loki could shift the metal cover back into place over the access shaft. The smell lessened, but not by as much as he’d hoped. There were mineral stains and thick swaths of mold growing over the walls, encouraged by the damp and general neglect. Whatever purpose this room and the drainage system had served during weapons manufacturing for the war, it was a dull, empty space now. 

They kept close to the bundled pipes that ran along one wall, leading to a corridor. The pipes were rusted and heavy mineral deposits ringed every joint, foul water dripping down onto the stone floor. 

Steve caught himself watching Loki instead of his surroundings. It was hard not to. The way Loki moved was perfectly fluid and efficiently focused. The closest comparison Steve had was something out of a video game or a movie. It was captivating. He wondered if this was how Agent May would move on a mission, or if Bucky would have the same lithe, graceful energy as he slipped around corners and checked through the abandoned rooms. This was Loki's world of blood and violence, the world he'd always come home from, tense and craving normalcy as much as alcohol. Steve gnawed at his lower lip, feeling a twinge of guilt. Loki had gotten out of this world; he was only doing this because he knew how much Bucky mattered to Steve.

Filing those thoughts away for later, he tried to reorient his focus on the mission. He listened for sounds other than the subtle scuff of their boot tread over the stone and the occasional soft clink of metal against metal from their body armor. The bunker wasn't fully manned and operational, but that didn't mean there was no one home. They were gambling that all attention would be on the circus SHIELD was running in the forest and the empty corridors seemed to indicate their gamble was paying off, at least so far. 

At one of the intersections, Loki stopped and held up a hand to signal Steve to wait. He gestured once, indicating that Steve needed to keep an eye on the way they'd come, before he slipped around the corner. Steve pressed his back against the wall, watching the empty hallway and straining to hear. Without being able to see, the sounds were disorienting. He thought he heard a grunt, boots shuffling over the hard floor, and a dull, heavy sound that could've been something falling. Fleeting panic drove him to sidle up to the corner and cautiously peer around the edge, afraid the sound had been Loki hitting the ground. Instead, he saw Loki crouching between two unconscious men, going through their various pockets quickly and thoroughly. He couldn't tell if the men were still breathing or not and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He was still working out the often narrow morality that was part of working for an organization like SHIELD.

“No comms,” Loki muttered, his voice muffled by the mask. “They must not have upgraded their systems beyond the old point to point wire connections from the war.”

“That’s good, right?” He tugged his mask off and clipped it back onto his vest. It was too suffocating to keep wearing it.

“I was hoping they’d simply tell us where they're keeping anyone they might have taken. Looks like we’ll have to do this the hard way.” Loki grabbed hold of the body armor on the fallen guard and dragged him across the floor, shoving open one of the metal doors to haul the man inside.

Steve got himself moving, grabbing the feet of the second man and helping Loki hide him away in the supply room as well. He stuck close to Loki as they continued down the nearest corridor to the right. After a few turns, he realized Loki was preferentially choosing to turn right, methodically sweeping and ruling out sections of the bunker as they went. Most of the rooms they found were empty; many had been used as storage but the crates and canisters inside were covered with a thick layer of dust. Many of the items looked old enough to have been there since World War II. 

"What do you think?" Loki whispered when they paused at another intersection, listening.

"Seems empty." Steve glanced down each of the surrounding corridors. He could hear water dripping and the hum of the wall lights. "But the lights are on. Why leave the lights on if you're just using this section as storage?"

"It is interesting." Loki led them down another corridor. "What do you know about HYDRA?"

"Barely anything. I'm not even field certified yet," Steve admitted, hoping the admission wouldn't cause Loki to turn back or suggest he stay behind in one of the cleared rooms. He winced when Loki looked around to scowl at him. "I can handle myself."

"We will discuss this later," Loki hissed irritably.

The combination of his tone and Steve’s already wrung out nerves made Loki’s words feel barbed. He shut his mouth, grinding teeth together, and tried to force himself to focus. Despite SHIELD training, he was every bit the fish out of water in Loki’s world of guns and body armor, but he was determined not to let Bucky down, or disappoint Loki. He was beginning to think rescuing Bucky would be the easier task.

At the next junction, Loki held up a hand to indicate _halt_ and cautiously took a glance down a neighboring corridor. A faint sound caught Steve's attention. There was a variation in the cadence of the sound, making him think it couldn't be mechanical or part of the infrastructure of the bunker. Loki reached for his belt and slowly withdrew a wicked looking dagger from a sheath, choosing that over the gun at his hip. Steve swallowed; he kept his hand hovering over his own holster, unclipping the latch but not drawing the gun. They moved step by step, hugging the wall. The steady sound grew louder and became recognizable as muffled music of some kind, with only the bass beats traveling outward from the source. On their last turn to the left, the rest of the music was audible and he noticed the tinny quality of cheap radio speakers. The corridor opened up into a dead end with an open archway leading to a chamber on the left and a series of secured doors on the right. Music wafted out of the archway. 

Loki made a motion that Steve didn't need explained. He nodded slightly and pulled tight against the wall, silently agreeing to stay where he was while Loki investigated the adjoining room. Loki moved like a ghost, sliding over the concrete and through the archway. A sharp cry echoed harshly through the corridor a moment later. Steve jumped, tensing. He strained to hear every boot scuff, every muted sound. Another cry was cut off, turning into a wet, gurgle that sent cold shivers down Steve's spine. Unable to hold back, he rushed forward without thinking beyond needing to know what was happening.

Beyond the archway was a small room hastily established as a shabby gathering area. There was a flimsy wooden table surrounded by plastic chairs, a trash can in the corner filled with food wrappers, and an empty coffee pot on a narrow table up against the wall. He took all of that in before he registered Loki lowering a limp man to the floor. There were two other men already down. 

Loki wiped the blade of a knife clean against the rough fabric of his pants. Blood glistened in the yellow light. "You were supposed to stay put."

He stared, riveted by the knife in Loki's hand. Pools of blood were forming beneath two of the bodies. The third man’s neck was angled unnaturally. His throat felt tight when he swallowed. "Did you just...are they?"

"Can we save the unpleasant interrogation for later?" Crouching, Loki began to rifle through the man's pockets. 

Objectively, he’d known Loki must be good at his _job_ , but this wasn’t objective; it was horrifying. Loki had killed three men in less time than it took Steve to put on his running shoes. They hadn’t even seen him coming. Watching Loki felt like watching a stranger; he _was_ a stranger. This Loki wasn’t even close to the Loki he’d fallen in love with. He’d fallen for a repentant bad boy with a past who was trying to straighten up and fly right, and he’d known none of that was real, but seeing the proof of it lying in a pool of blood in front of him felt like being punched in the gut.

“Steve.”

"I was only...you were...that was like fifteen seconds."

"This is why I wanted you to stay _home_ ," Loki growled at him. A set of keys jingled in his hand before he tossed them at Steve. "Check those doors and stay here. I'll go ahead. Do not under any circumstances leave this area. I'll come back for you as soon as I can."

"Come on, Loki." 

"Do as I say and check those rooms." 

A strange thrill went up Steve's back, sending sparks out into his chest like a firework. He pushed the reaction aside – he did not want to think about that _now_ \- and gripped the keys, starting for the door at the far end of the corridor. The list of topics he and Loki were going to have to talk about when this was over seemed to get longer with each step he took; starting with the fact that Loki was more than a little terrifying and Steve wasn't sure how to handle it. Thor was right; they needed therapy. A lot of therapy.

He started at the far end, methodically trying keys until he found one that slotted into the lock and turned easily. The hinges stuttered and complained, but he shoved a shoulder against the door to force it open and found a small, empty room. It was dark, with only a small portion of the light from the corridor illuminating the floor, and he couldn't make out much more than a round drain and marks on the concrete where a heavy object had been dragged out of the room. A quick scan was all he needed to be sure there was nothing of interest and he moved to the next door, cycling through the keyring again, half listening for any sound of Loki or anyone else approaching. 

As the light poured into another small, narrow room, motion and sound in the corner caught his attention. There was a woman hand-cuffed to the frame of a cot, her long blond hair was pulled back into a braid that had seen better days.

"Agent Morse?" He hurried forward, already searching the keyring for what looked like it might open the cuffs.

"Rogers?" Some of the tension in her stance lessened and she maneuvered enough to allow Steve to work at the cuff on her wrist. "What are you doing here? Who's leading the op?"

"Not an op. Thor called in a few favors with Asgard. SHIELD's running interference near where the plane went down, but officially, we're not even here." He felt the key click in the lock and the cuff sprang open. "What about Bucky? Agent James Barnes."

Agent Bobbi Morse nodded, rubbing at her wrist. "I heard Barnes. And Mack. If there are more, I haven't heard them. I think we’re the only survivors."

He saw her glance at his gun and handed it over. "Take it. You're better with it than I am. I'm with someone from Asgard. He's a friendly and he's our way out, so...don't shoot him." Moving to the next, his fingers shook as he cycled through the keys another time. 

They found Agent Mackensie behind door number two, handcuffed as Agent Morse had been. As soon as the cuffs were off, Steve got out of the way to let Bobbi take care of Mack and hurried to the next door, holding his breath in anticipation. His fingers shook so badly that the key scraped against the lock and the rest of the keyring rattled as he unlocked the door. There was another small room, another cot, and a man sitting with his back to the wall, one arm raised.

“Bucky?” He hurried forward, reaching out but afraid to touch. They’d clamped Bucky’s prosthetic arm to the wall as well as handcuffing him to the cot. The right side of his face was covered with dried blood, visible even in the dim light. “Bucky. Oh my god.”

“Steve?” Visibly wincing, Bucky turned toward him as much as the restraints allowed. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.”

“I should be home doing nothing?” he snapped. 

“You’ll get yourself killed.”

“In case you haven’t noticed.” He wrenched at the bindings on Bucky’s metal arm and they popped loose. “I’m the one rescuing you.”

Bucky was scowling. He took a few seconds to test the motion of his left arm while Steve unlocked the cuff on his right wrist. “Is Coulson with you?”

“No. Thor and some old friends from Asgard. SHIELD’s creating a distraction at the crash site while we grab you guys and get out.” He didn’t mention Loki. The last thing he needed was for Bucky to take a swing at him or at Loki and he was half-tempted to simply knock Bucky over the head now, just in case.

He helped Bucky onto his feet and steadied him. They joined Bobbi and Mack in the corridor. Mack was searching the small break room while Bobbi hunted through the dead men’s pockets for anything that might be useful. Bucky’s jaw tightened when he saw the bodies and he gave Steve a hard look before turning away. He wondered if Bucky was assuming he’d killed them and felt a little sick at the idea, but didn’t correct him. All through his SHIELD training, he’d hoped that he’d never have to kill anyone.

“There’s a drainage pipe,” he told them quietly, repeating the plan they’d settled on at the beach house. “Rendezvous point is about three miles to the south. Do you think you can make it?” All three of them nodded back at him. “If we’re lucky, no one will know we were even here until we’re long gone.”

The sound of footsteps, quiet and hurried, sent all four pressing up against the wall. Bobbi had the gun raised in a moment. Steve held out a hand, silently asking her to wait until they were sure who it was. A moment later Loki came around the corner. The mask and goggles obscured enough of his face to be unrecognizable. Steve breathed a sigh of relief. Of course Loki had thought about what might happen if Bucky recognized him. With a gesture for them to follow, Loki started back the way they’d come, moving quickly. Steve waved the others forward and brought up the rear, straining to hear any sound that might indicate they’d been discovered. Loki had taken out enough guards that it was only a matter of time before someone in the bunker noticed their silence.

They wove their way back through the maze. Steve had no idea how Loki even remembered which way to go; he never hesitated or faltered at any of the intersections. The air grew colder and heavy with humidity; increasing amounts of mold and water deposits covered the walls. When they reached the narrow room with the manhole cover leading down into the drainage pipe, Mack helped Loki wrench the cover aside and dropped down into the shaft, followed by Bobbi and then Bucky. All Steve got was a sharp gesture and he didn’t stop to argue before climbing in and starting down the ladder. He held his breath until he heard the scrape of metal over concrete and Loki’s boots on the ladder rungs.

The smell in the pipe was worse than he remembered. He offered his mask to anyone who might want it, but they all shook their heads, hands over their noses as they tried to block out the worst of the odor.

“Just hurry,” Bucky whispered hoarsely.

Loki was already moving. At the mouth of the pipe, he knelt down and dug into his backpack for gear to set up a pulley system that would make it easier to get everyone up to the top of the bluff. They waited anxiously, time crawling by and stretching out until minutes felt like hours. Once the final piece was in place, Loki waved Mack forward and quietly demonstrated the mechanisms attached to the rope. Moments later, Mack swung out into the darkness and disappeared into the space above the pipe. Bobbi followed and, with a minimum amount of muttered griping, Bucky went next. 

He expected Loki to say something, but he kept silent and briskly got Steve into position. There were two hand gears and Loki quietly show him how they worked to speed climbing up the rope. Steve found his rhythm after a few cycles and got his feet braced solidly against the rock. At the top, he reversed the lock on the gears and sent them sliding back down for Loki to use. The others were crouched together at the top of the bluff. 

"Guess SHIELD will owe Asgard one after this," Bucky said softly.

"We're not out yet," Bobbi cautioned. "Save the celebrating for later."

Steve saw the rope jerk taut near his feet and hurried to the edge to help Loki up the last couple of feet. They had three miles of dense forest to navigate and needed to keep moving. Once Loki was clear of the rope, they headed south, following the edge of the bluff and Steve stayed close to Bucky.

He was a bundle of nerves as they went, reaching out to catch Bucky every time he stumbled or Steve even thought he might stumble. By his watch, it was nearly one o'clock in the morning and it took them an hour to wind down the bluff, cutting through the forest edge to reach the southern clearing where Thor would be waiting. They encountered no patrols or anything to slow them down, which had been their primary concern when they'd poured over the map. Still, he knew he wouldn't be able to relax until he was back in the beach house with Loki and he knew the others were home safely.

The sight of the helicopter outlined by moonlight when they tumbled into the clearing was possibly the most wonderful thing Steve had seen. A fresh rush of adrenaline surged through him. He kept a hand near Bucky's elbow as they hurried forward toward the open side door, focused entirely on getting everyone inside and buckled in for takeoff. Settling in, he waved at one of the members of the crew and noticed a fresh cut over the man's cheekbone. Frowning, he looked around, seeing wounds and subtle signs of violence on the other crew members as well, but the noise of the helicopter kept him from voicing any questions. His stomach lurched as they lifted off the ground and away from the clearing. 

He shouted over the noise. "We made it." 

Bobbi and Mack grinned back at him and, beside him, Bucky managed a tight smile. He couldn't tell if Loki was smiling or not.

They landed an hour later, at a halfway point well over the nearest border. A SHIELD tactical team was there to collect their agents. Steve stayed behind with Loki, since SHIELD knowing he'd gone on a rogue rescue mission would go about as well for him as it would for Loki. He was happy to let all the credit, and the paperwork, go to Thor and to Asgard. 

He found Loki adjusting his body armor in the back of the helicopter and took a seat nearby. "Hey."

"Hey," Loki said, his voice distant and cool. 

The tone surprised him a little and Steve wondered if he'd managed to upset Loki somehow. He thought they'd done well, thought he'd done pretty well considering it had been his first field mission. Maybe that was the problem; maybe Loki was angry that Steve had come along at all. He tried to shrug off the pang of disappointment. For once, he'd been able to be a part of Loki's world and he'd hoped it could be a shared experience that would bring them closer rather than drive them apart. A part of him, he realized, wanted Loki to be proud of him. 

"Loki," he began softly. "About...about all this."

"It's alright," Loki interrupted. "I understand and you don't...you don't have to explain."

Steve blinked at him. "What do you understand?"

Loki tugged at a stubborn strap around his side. "Now you've seen for yourself what I am. What I'm capable of. Now it's real. Now you truly know what it means when I tell you that I'm a monster."

His lungs felt tight and frozen in his chest. He watched Loki intently, sifting through his words to the fear beneath them. There was truth in what he'd said. There was a world of difference between knowing Loki had killed people and seeing the body count for himself. Loki had tried to spare him that knowledge, tried to shield him from seeing the blood on his hands, and he wondered how differently it might've gone if he'd let Loki go alone. Would more people have died that night if Loki hadn't been trying to spare Steve's feelings? And after all of it, Loki was still afraid that Steve would leave, still afraid he wouldn't love him.

He lunged out of the jumpseat and caught Loki around the waist, pushing him against the inner hull of the aircraft. Pressing close, he cut off Loki's surprised gasp with a kiss, fierce and hot. The body armor was bulky and got in the way, but he gripped at whatever handhold he could find and pushed Loki's legs apart with one knee.

"When we get home," he breathed out against Loki's lips. "I am going to ride you until you can't even stand up. Leave the armor on if you want...just as long as you're fucking me into the mattress." He grabbed at Loki's ass and hips, fingers sliding over clasps and buttons. He had half a mind not to wait until they got home and mentally cursed the too many layers between his hands and Loki's penis. Frustrated, he fumbled with the zipper of Loki’s cargo pants. "Fuck it. I want you _now_." Loki shoved at his chest, hard, and he stumbled back.

“What is wrong with you?” Loki hissed through his teeth.

The sudden, blunt rejection stunned him, knocking the breath out of his lungs like the shock of icy water. Not just rejection, but the accusation that he'd done something very _wrong_.

"Is this your idea of a joke? Is the blood some kind of turn on for you?" Crossing his arms tightly, Loki's lips curled in disgust. "If it is a joke, it's not funny. And if it isn't, then...that's sick."

His cheeks burned with shame and embarrassment. He hadn't felt like this since he'd been ninety pounds and his ears rang with vicious laughter from classmates over his hand-me-down clothes. He returned to the jumpseat and sat down heavily, elbows braced on his knees and staring at the deck. He hadn't expected rejection or to be chastised for making an advance at all. Pain scattered his thoughts utterly; he had nothing to say in response and couldn't pull together the words to defend himself.

“I didn't want you here at all," Loki spat angrily. "And then you come onto me, like something I _hate_ gives you a goddamn hard on."

Slumping further against the seat, he didn't dare look up or speak. He could barely hear anything over the pounding in his chest and in his ears. It had been so easy - too easy - to fall back into the comfortable, physical familiarity of knowing how Loki wanted to be touched and kissed. Except that was apparently an illusion as well, since he clearly didn't know what Loki wanted at all. Loki had loved him, that had been real, but their entire relationship had still been a lie. It had been naive of him to think that finding Loki again meant they could pick up where they left off.

After a long silence, Loki sighed wearily. "Look, I get that you have issues about sex, but whatever your damage is, you crossed the line, Steve.”

Frozen, he could only nod mutely, still staring at the toes of his boots and feeling a strange sense of deja vu. Showing up at the beach house had barely been forty eight hours earlier. He didn't know if that even qualified as enough time for them to be considered _together_ again or if Loki was unceremoniously dumping him in the middle of Europe. He had no idea where he stood with Loki now. He'd thought they were going to try to make it work.

Loki continued, his voice softer. “It'll be a few days before things settle down with SHIELD and I think...we both need some space."

 _Space_ , he thought miserably. His hope faded with the sounds of Loki leaving the helicopter and walking away.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Author does not condone these character choices.

Bucky tried to keep a straight face, facing forward while the nurse shone a light at his eyes to check his retinas. Her lips were flattened into a thin line, pinched at the corners, and he didn't think she appreciated his jokes.

"You're clear," she said as she moved away, picking up his clipboard and marking down incomprehensible notes. "I'll process the memo to approve you for field work." She glanced up to meet his gaze. "Pending approval from your psychologist that you're ready to return."

"Hey, I get paid either way." He grabbed his shirt and tugged it down over his head. "And I'm due for some time off."

"Come back if you experience any migraines or nausea."

"Yes, ma'am." He tried not to smile when she glared at him. "Nurse Stacy. Ma'am."

"Get out of here, Barnes. I don't want to see you back here for at least six months."

"I'll do my best." 

The SHIELD medical floor was relatively quiet, without the bustle and chaos of a civilian hospital, but it still had all the weird smells and the cold, sterile vibe that gave Bucky chills. He'd spent more time here than he'd wanted after Kabul and every visit was accompanied by the irrational fear that he was going to lose another limb. Not that his prosthetic wasn't cool in a geeky, science and robots, kind of way, but he liked his body parts just where they were.

Outside, the first hints of fall were in the air; it wouldn't be long until the trees started changing colors. He fished his phone out of his jacket pocket and called Steve, who had finally relented and rejoined the Twenty First century. 

"I'm gonna pick up some take out and beer and come over. Don't argue."

"Bucky.”

"I said don't argue. And don't tell me you've already eaten, we both know you're always hungry anyway."

"Alright," Steve ceded. "What's the occasion?"

"Just want to spend time with my best pal," he lied. "Be there in half an hour."

They hadn't talked about the plane crash. At least, he hadn't talked to Steve about it. He felt like he'd talked to the rest of SHIELD, from Nick Fury down, but he'd barely seen or spoken to Steve since that night. It wasn't that Steve was avoiding Bucky, at least, only as much as he was avoiding anyone who wasn't Melinda May. Since the crash, Steve had more than doubled the time he spent training and people were starting to talk. Mostly, they were talking about how _good_ Steve was becoming at all the things Bucky had never wanted him to be good at, but there were a few sideways glances and concerned frowns mixed in too. The kind, gentle Steve everyone had grown to love was taking a turn toward the dark side and Bucky knew something was wrong. Since it hadn’t been an official op, Steve hadn’t gone through the process and counseling that SHEILD usually required. Although Bucky had sneered at the counseling when he’d been young and naïve, he appreciated it now.

Steve was ridiculously athletic and determined enough to master anything he put his mind to; if he wanted, he could be a perfect, lethal killer, but the price would be high. Bucky knew Steve would lose his smile, would lose the carefree energy and compassion that Bucky loved about him. Steve hadn’t been ready to be in a position where he had to take a life, if there was such a thing as being _ready_. How much of the change was because Loki broke his heart and how much was because Steve was already growing colder and harder as he drank in what SHIELD poured out; Bucky didn't know.

He picked up twice as much food as he thought they needed, doubling up on the Lo Mein and General Tso’s chicken, along with a full container of egg rolls, and opted for a full case of beer over a six pack. Having a metal arm had its perks; he doubted carrying groceries had been on SHIELD’s wishlist when they’d developed the technology, but he’d take it. Steve’s access code got him through the gate. He whistled a random, off-key tune as he climbed the stairs to Steve’s apartment, wondering if he should’ve brought a movie along, or his xBox. He didn’t know what it would take to pry Steve open about how he was really doing.

The smell of bleach washed over him when Steve opened the door and he winced. Apparently Steve had reached the obsessive cleaning stage of dealing with trauma. He managed a smile, handing over the case of beer as a peace offering. This was the first time he’d been in Steve’s apartment and he was surprised at how empty it was. Other than a worn sofa and a crate, the living room was barren.

“I don’t have any glasses.” Steve set the case on the kitchen counter, running his hand through his hair a little absently as he looked around. He grabbed a box of plastic forks and set it out. “Or silverware.”

Bucky decided not to comment. Clearly, he should’ve checked up on Steve long before now. He set the bag on the counter and began emptying out boxes, identifying the contents as he went. Steve produced a stack of paper plates, dumping out portions from the cartons. He seemed distracted, his focus either far away or in another world entirely, and he didn’t notice Bucky watching him thoughtfully. Once the plate was full, he ripped open the cardboard case and pulled out a couple beer cans, taking them with him into the living room.

He kept one eye on Steve as he portioned out Lo Mein and chicken. “Heard May gave you some pretty good bruises the other day.”

“She’s the best,” Steve replied absently.

“You sore?”

Steve shrugged, stabbing idly at a piece of chicken with his fork. “A little. Got eight miles in this morning. Feeling it a bit.”

“Eight miles? You training for something? Like a marathon.”

“Just trying to catch up.”

Frowning, he carried his plate and a beer into the living room and took a seat on the sofa beside Steve. “Catch up to what?”

Another shrug. “You’ve got years’ worth of training behind you. Most everyone does. I’m just…just trying to get better. Get good enough, you know.”

He felt a sick little twist in his stomach. “No, I don’t know.” He saw Steve stiffen, his expression quickly going blank, but not quickly enough that Bucky didn’t see the flash of pain and, unexpectedly, anger. “We haven’t really talked about Europe. And I’m thinking you haven’t been talking to anyone about anything, have you?”

“What’s there to say?” The beer can popped and fizzed when Steve opened it. He nearly drained it in one go.

“I don’t know. How do you feel?”

Steve rolled his eyes. He set the plate of uneaten food down on the crate and leaned back into the couch. “If you want sex, you can just ask.”

“That’s the non sequitur of the century.”

“I’d probably say yes.” Steve wasn’t meeting his eyes. He worried at his lower lip with his teeth for a moment, then focused on his beer. “If you asked. I’d probably say yes.”

Every alarm bell in Bucky’s brain was going off like a siren, screaming that something was very wrong. There was a darkness in Steve’s voice and the words clawed at his conscience. He managed a smile, trying to laugh it off as a joke. “I’ve been chasing after you for months but apparently all I needed was to survive a plane crash and nearly get my head bashed in to get into your pants.”

With a bitter chuckle, Steve reached for his second beer. “When you put it that way, it sounds pretty sick."

Bucky set his food down and went back to the kitchen for the case of beer, bringing the entire box back with him. This was whole steps above his pay-grade and he had a sneaking suspicion Steve was a lot closer to coming apart at the seams than anyone realized. “Hey, not judging, man. I was pretty messed up after Kabul. Hell, you were there. You know how bad off I was.”

“You were an asshole.” Steve finished his second beer and started on a third. 

"Right back at you, pal." He’d never known Steve to drink to get drunk, which is what it looked like he was doing. “There’s no manual for this kind of thing. No one has the right answers for you, there’s no quick fix, but it does help to talk about it. I know it sounds pointless, but it helps. And if you can’t talk to me, SHIELD’s got some great resources. Good people. All you have to do is walk in the door, no questions asked. They’ll help you.”

“Maybe.” Steve shrugged, slipping back into his disconnected haze.

He wasn’t going to open up on his own, that much was obvious. Silently, Bucky raged at Loki, who’d turned Steve into the isolated, closed off stranger sitting in front of him. 

“Do you,” Steve stopped, clearing his throat. A blush like watercolors spread over his cheeks. 

“What?”

“Want to have sex with me.”

“Um…right now? Or is that a general question?” Not wanting to fill in the blanks himself, and trying to catch the little hints falling between the words, he waited, but the rest of the sentence never came. 

Without warning, Steve nearly sent their plates and beers toppling onto the floor when he lunged toward Bucky; he got a firm grip on the back of Bucky's neck and kissed him hard. A soft, undignified squeak slipped out before Bucky could react, moving his hands to Steve's sides. His lips partly just slightly, trying to get a breath, and Steve's tongue was immediately there, licking at his teeth and lower lip. He drove Bucky back into the corner of the sofa like a drowning man clutching at a life preserver and if he hadn't been worried about Steve before, he was definitely worried now. 

"Wait," he managed to get out between Steve's attempts to devour him. "Hold up a second." When he'd dreamed about another chance with Steve, this wasn’t how he'd wanted it to happen. Steve was in no shape to be having sex with anyone and have it be a good thing, but maybe he was reaching out in the only way he could. 

Pulling back, Steve’s expression turned into a wince. “Damn it. I’m sorry, Bucky. I keep fucking everything up.”

“Hey, hey,” Bucky soothed quickly. He pulled Steve against his chest, rubbing slow circles over his back. "You need this. I get it. You'll regret it tomorrow. I get that too."

"How do you know that?" Steve said hoarsely.

"I know you. Better than you know yourself sometimes, apparently." 

"Will you hate me?"

"It's only sex. It doesn't have to have a fairytale ending. And just between you and me, it's been awhile since I've gotten laid so I am really looking forward to getting some action." He knew it was going to be a minefield to navigate what Steve needed and what would only do more damage. "I'm also hoping you have condoms, by the way, because I am completely unprepared for this. Unless you wanted to...you know. No pressure. I know you're big on being safe and using protection."

Steve turned away, folding his arms over his stomach as though physically ill. "I didn't...with Loki. We didn't. God, Bucky, I’m so stupid."

Every piece of the puzzle, every tiny bit of information Steve let slip, only made him want to hunt Loki down and hit him that much harder. He didn’t believe for a second that Loki was really dead; he was simply grateful the bastard hadn’t tried to weasel his way back into Steve’s life.

"That is pretty stupid," he said, wrapping his arms around Steve in a hug. “Thanks for being honest about it.”

In the silence, Bucky remembered Loki asking what would happen when Steve fell off the pedestal Bucky had put him on and wondered if this was that moment. He'd spent years looking up to Steve, in one way or another; loving him and idolizing him. This was the most human, the most willfully self-destructive and hurting, he'd ever seen Steve. But if Loki had expected him to feel disappointment, he would've been wrong. There was only sadness, for the path that had led Steve to this place and his own part in it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Knock it off with the apologies. If you’d told me this was a booty call, I would’ve brought vodka instead of beer.” He felt Steve laugh; it was barely a chuckle, but that was better than nothing. He brushed his lips against Steve’s forehead, not quite a kiss. If he could get Steve to relax, maybe he'd start talking. 

He coaxed Steve into turning around, back against his chest and legs draped over the arm of the sofa. Kneading his thumbs into the muscles of Steve's upper back, he worked at the tension and periodically reached out to grab another beer and hand it over. After a couple beers, he let his hands drift up to comb through Steve's hair, then down over his shoulders and chest, more testing than anything else. Steve shifted, beginning to arch into the touches; he’d always been very tactile. It had been like coaxing a stray cat when Bucky had first gotten him into bed; a wiry little scruff of a kitten who'd been all bony edges and shy smiles. He let out slow sigh when Bucky curled his fingers into his hair, scratching lightly over his scalp. This was familiar. He let the back of his fingers trail down the side of Steve's throat and watched the pulse beat beneath his skin. 

A better man would have marched Steve straight into a counselor's office.

They stayed that way, Bucky resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder, until they had to get up to take turns using the bathroom. Bucky tossed the remaining food into the refrigerator, noting it was nearly as empty as the rest of the apartment, and checked out the bedroom. The mattress was on the floor; a small lamp and a shoebox were the only objects beside the bed; Steve’s new smartphone was charging on top of the shoebox. He wondered if it was going to take SHIELD’s entire counseling department to get Steve the help he needed. Sitting down the end of the bed, he shucked off his shoes and socks. It felt he was auditioning for a porno instead of hooking up with his ex.

When he glanced up, he saw Steve standing in the bedroom doorway with his hands in his jeans pockets; he looked every bit the skinny, awkward kid again. Bucky hadn’t seen Steve act like this in years, as though he was trying to be smaller, maybe even disappear completely.

Motioning for Steve to come closer, he stood up to meet him, reaching out to grab Steve’s hips as soon as he was close enough. Steve ducked his head, hands loose at his sides. Bucky moved slowly, making nothing a surprise, and let his fingers skim along Steve’s sides a couple times before catching the hem of his t-shirt and tugging upward. Steve didn’t resist, but he wasn’t pro-active either; he seemed afraid, nearly frozen with it, and it was wildly different from the confident sexuality he usually exuded. Leaning in, Bucky kissed the curve between his shoulder and throat, holding lightly and expecting Steve to change his mind at any moment. 

“Condoms are in the box,” Steve whispered. 

He realized that he was still waiting for Steve to take the lead, which clearly wasn’t going to happen, and tried to adjust his thinking. He pulled away enough to yank his own shirt up over his head and pressed against Steve’s chest for as much skin to skin contact as he could get. Without the usual signs and behavior to indicate Steve was onboard with what they were doing, he erred on the side of caution and kept his touches confined to relatively safe areas. There were subtle hints; the blush spreading down Steve’s throat and the little catches in his breathing. Steve's hands moved slowly to his hips, almost too gentle to feel through the denim of his jeans.

The silence was unnerving. 

He sunk back down onto the bed, hooking fingers through the belt loops of Steve’s jeans to pull him in and looked up. Steve chewed on his lower lip, brow furrowed. After a moment, he wove the fingers of his right hand into Bucky’s hair, digging into the ponytail at the back and loosening it. His left hand barely rested on Bucky’s shoulder. 

Bucky paused, fingers on the zipper tab. “You can stop me any time.” Steve nodded.

The zipper clicked softly, teeth disengaging one by one. Normally, he would’ve tossed Steve onto the bed and stripped him as quickly as possible, but that felt wrong. Instead, he carefully worked his jeans and boxers down his legs, helping him step out of them without losing his balance. He skimmed his hands up the sides of Steve’s legs, watching his face as he leaned in to kiss the smooth skin of his lower abdomen. The grip on his hair tightened when he breathed out over the soft curl of Steve’s penis. It hadn’t been so long that Bucky couldn’t remember what Steve liked. He had Steve gasping and rocking forward on the balls of his feet soon enough, hands clutching in his hair as his cock slipped in and out between Bucky’s lips. But he didn’t say a word and his jaw was clenched so tightly that Bucky thought it must hurt. The reticence to speak was strange and it didn’t make any sense, but he didn’t point it out or ask questions. 

“Lie down on the bed,” Bucky said as he pulled away. 

He knocked the smartphone onto the carpet as he fumbled with the shoebox lid. Inside, he found condoms, lube, lotion, a box of tissues, and a bottle of prescription sleeping pills that nearly killed the mood. When he turned around, Steve was lying on his stomach, forehead against one arm. Bucky stripped off his jeans and eased down onto the bed, one hand tracing a path up the back of Steve’s leg. Steve shifted his weight, pushing up onto his elbows and knees, face toward the bed. That definitely wasn’t what Bucky had in mind and he paused, his nerve faltering. There were advantages to this position and he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the view, but on all fours had never been Steve’s preferred position. That, combined with the utter silence, was beginning to make Bucky wonder what was really going on. He let his right hand rest lightly on the small of Steve’s back, trying to decide if he should say something now or later.

Perversely, he wanted to ask if this had been Loki's favorite position; if Loki had gotten off on having Steve submissive and on his knees. He wondered if Steve was trying to grapple with that, trying to recover from what Loki had demanded of him. Because this? Wasn't Steve. 

He tried to focus on his fingers and the lube; it felt mechanical. He worked two fingers into Steve's body and it was too tight; Steve had never been this tight. At least, he hadn't been this tight since he'd grown nearly a foot and packed on the pounds. He might as well have been dealing with skinny, insecure Steve Rogers all over again; skinny and nervous and wound tighter than any one person had a right to be. But even back then, he'd been able to get Steve to loosen up; now, he remained stubbornly resistant despite Bucky's best attempts.

"Steve," he began, hesitating.

"Just do it."

“You’ve gotta relax.”

He caressed Steve's lower back and hips, trying to release some of the tension. Whatever Steve was getting out of this, he hoped it would be worth it. Comfort, maybe; a distraction from what was eating away at him. He'd thought, a few times actually, that Steve fucked like he had a score to settle, like he was trying to prove something to himself or maybe the whole universe. It hadn't always been that way and Bucky tried to trace back through their past to pinpoint the turning point where Steve had gone from shy and quiet to confident and uninhibited. Whatever had caused the change, something had happened to flip the switch back to _off_ again.

He thought about trying to fill the silence himself but his mind was a blank. Instead, he placed his metal hand between Steve's shoulder blades, pressing him down into the mattress. It gave him a better angle and Steve shuddered in anticipation; his breath whistled harshly through his teeth and his knuckles were white, grabbing fistfuls of the blanket beneath them. Trying to make it easier, Bucky circled his right hand around to stroke Steve’s cock. He hoped the stimulation would help and maybe Steve would start to move of his own volition, making it clear that he was ready for more. He was surprised to feel that Steve's erection had disappeared completely. The only reaction he got was Steve pressing his forehead against the bed and his hands clenching and unclenching in the blanket. 

This wasn’t what he wanted. His own interest and arousal faded rapidly. He shifted his weight, intending to pull away, but Steve grabbed his wrist and held him there.

“Don't stop.”

“I want a fucking explanation of what’s going on with you. You’re acting weird, don’t try to deny it."

“Bucky, please.” Steve sounded near panic or near tears, maybe both.

“You don’t even _want_ this.” Bucky wrenched his hand free and rocked back on his heels. He tugged at Steve’s hips, turning him around and forcing him to sit up. “You have never been into casual sex. Never. It’s not you. This is not you.” He tried to meet Steve’s eyes but Steve kept looking away. “Is it SHIELD? Is it Europe? You're tearing yourself apart over something and I just want to help. Let me help you.”

“Then keep going. That's how you can help me,” Steve said tightly.

“Bullshit.” Bucky folded his arms. “You want me to use you or punish you. Or something. Whatever this is.”

“So what?”

Grinding his teeth, Bucky pressed his forehead into his palm, massaging his temples. “Goddamn it, Steve.”

“Come on, Bucky.” Steve was on him again, kissing and trying to pull Bucky down onto the bed. It felt forced and artificial, like a sales pitch for a product he didn’t believe in. And he still wasn’t _saying_ anything, when he should’ve been whispering dirty, filthy suggestions against Bucky’s skin.

“Did Loki use you like this? Is that how he liked to fuck you?”

Steve recoiled like he’d been struck. “No,” he said immediately, the first definitive answer he'd given all day.

“Did he tie you up for kicks? Beat you? What?” Bucky caught Steve’s chin, forcing him to look at him.

“He didn't do anything like that,” Steve snarled. “You can’t blame this on Loki.” He rolled away and got up from the bed. “I’m going to take a shower.” The bathroom door slammed behind him.

Bucky raked a hand through his hair and reconsidered the idea of bodily dragging Steve into the SHIELD counselor's office. He thought Thor would help, if he couldn’t haul Steve in by himself. Frustrated in more ways than one, he fumbled in the shoebox for tissues to clean himself up. When he picked up Steve’s smartphone to put it back, he noticed several notifications on the screen. He tugged it free of the charging cord. The passcode was Steve’s birthday, as always; he refused to feel guilty for invading Steve’s privacy, not with this many red flags waving in his face.

The phone was new and Steve had only added a couple of apps beyond the factory configuration. Other than Bucky, there was one other person in his contacts list; someone listed only as _Adam_. Frowning, Bucky tapped on the name. There was no profile, only a picture of a dog with amber eyes set in dark chocolate color fur, its tongue hanging out of its mouth. His heart sank.

He got dressed and sat down onto the end of the bed, Steve’s phone in his hand. He tried not to assume the worst but didn’t have much success. Steve wasn’t in the shower long. He had a towel around his waist when he opened the door, heading immediately for the closet. Normally pale skin was a vibrant pink, either from excessively hot water or a thorough scrubbing with a bristle brush.

“Who’s Adam?” Bucky held up the phone when Steve turned around. He saw fear and pain flash across Steve’s face and that was all the confirmation he needed, but he forced himself to smile and tossed the phone on the bed. “Some guy you met on Grindr?”

Steve began dressing, looking everywhere but at Bucky. “No. He was…he’s Asgard. He was part of the team. The guy in the mask who was with me. You met him.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. Bucky was willing to count that as a victory, however small. “Since when do you sleep around like this?” 

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“I'm not leaving until you do. You can talk to me or I can have your security clearance revoked and you can explain it to SHIELD.” 

Steve finished pulling on jeans and a t-shirt. He hugged his arms like he was standing outside in the middle of winter, his gaze downcast. He looked miserable.

"Come here," Bucky said softly, nodding to the bed. Steve sniffed, shuffling over and sitting down without unfolding his arms. "Are you and this Adam guy..."

He seemed to tighten in on himself, trying to become smaller. "No. He was only helping out because...because Thor asked him to and, and because it was you. Because you're my friend. Just did me a favor, that's all."

 _Shit_ , Bucky thought. No wonder Steve was so rattled. He'd chalked it up to it being Steve's first real taste of being in the field, but this made it exponentially worse. Connecting the dots - the booze, the drastic change in behavior when it came to sex - was giving him a pretty disturbing picture of Steve's mental health and the mission seemed to have been the tipping point. 

"What?" Steve said, glancing nervously at him.

"You are not your dad." He saw Steve flinch sharply. "You're nothing like him."

"Maybe I am." His voice was small and tormented.

"Is that why you're sleeping around? Because you think you're like him?"

Steve ducked his head. "I thought it would be better if it was a stranger, you know. Not someone I care about. Not someone I could hurt like that. Just random, just meaningless. But it only made me feel worse. I thought, maybe, it would be different with you. But I fucked that up too."

"Why are you afraid of hurting someone?"

Visibly agitated, Steve began rocking back and forth slightly. "I'm just…messed up. I don't know. It doesn't make any sense."

"Talk to me. Maybe I can help you make sense of it."

"You can't-"

"Try me," Bucky insisted. "Can't hurt to try."

"Or you might never speak to me again once you know that I...that." He stopped, gritting his teeth so tightly that Bucky swore he could hear them scraping together. "The bodies, the ones you saw in the bunker. I didn't do any of that. Adam did. And he scared the hell out of me. How _good_ he was at it. But after we were clear and it was over, I...I didn't care that he'd just killed those people. I mean, there was still blood on his clothes and I." His throat moved as he swallowed. "Nothing happened. We didn't...do anything. But I wanted to."

Bucky blinked. He fell back on the bed, nearly shaking with relief, and began to laugh. When he looked up, Steve was staring at him, open mouthed with shock. He sobered up quickly, pushing up on one elbow. "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have laughed."

"It's not funny, Bucky. There's something _wrong_ with me."

"Steve, listen to me." He sat up and grabbed hold of Steve's shoulder. "Hate to break it to you, but you are completely, one hundred percent, totally _normal_."

"What?"

"I mean, everyone's different, you know. Some people come back from ops and just sleep, some get angry, some clean, some bang anything with a pulse, some drink or gamble or race cars. It's called adrenaline." He grinned, giving Steve a little shake. "If it had been a real op, SHIELD would've briefed you on what to expect and then de-briefed you when you got back. They cover shit like this. How to decompress, how to come back to the world. Yeah, it can be disconcerting if you don't know what's going on, but there is nothing wrong with you."

Steve's eyes were wide, almost glazed over. "There's nothing wrong with me," he repeated, incredulous.

"Well, you're a bit of a drama queen, I mean really, you go dark side on me just because your first op got your motor running? Little bit of overkill there." He made a pinching gesture. "Just a bit."

Steve’s breath went out in a whoosh as he collapsed onto the bed, hands over his face. "I thought I was turning into him."

"I'd knock some sense into you if you were." He reached out to tousle Steve's hair. "There's a chance you might be in the wrong business, Rogers."

"I am so sorry," Steve groaned as he sat up. "If you, if you want...we could still..."

"You don’t owe me sex. Not now, not ever." He hated saying it because he really _did_ want to get laid. Part of him regretted not taking the chance when it had been right there in front of him; he didn't think he'd get another one. 

"I'm so sorry."

"I'm still up for booty calls. Real ones. Not...whatever this was." He looked meaningfully at Steve’s phone. “You are terrible at random hookups."

"I'm deleting the app right now."

"Damn right you are. And now I'm sober, which I don't want to be." 

"Agreed."

Bucky followed Steve back into the living room, keeping up a steady stream of idle conversation while Steve reheated their plates in the microwave and they got back into the case of beer. He convinced Steve to pull up Netflix on his laptop before sprawling out over the sofa and forcing Steve to accommodate him. There was no way he was going to give Steve a chance to retreat back into his shell again.

“You’re a good pillow.” He wiggled until he found a comfortable position. “What’re we watching?”

“Cosmos. The new one.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’re such a nerd.”

“Says Mister Junior Science Fair.”

“Hey, don’t you go telling anyone. No one at work knows anything about that.” He snagged a beer and propped his feet up on the arm of the sofa.

Steve started the video. Leaning back, he wrapped one arm around Bucky’s chest and turned so that Bucky was nestled into the curve of his side. They’d spent hours like this growing up, one or both of them reading or Steve sketching. Their positions had been swapped, with a much smaller Steve curled against Bucky, but it was still familiar and comforting. It was good to know that some pieces of their past would never change.

“I really am sorry, Buck,” Steve said softly, his breath teasing Bucky’s hair. 

“I know you are.” He waited, giving him time. A Steve who wanted to talk was much closer to normal. When they’d been together, it had been Bucky who’d run from every serious conversation.

“I think…I have issues. With sex. About sex.”

“You and most of the planet. You’re in good company.” There was a kink in his back that was going to be painful before long. He shifted again and ended up with his head in Steve’s lap. He couldn’t drink his beer in that position so he grabbed one of the throw pillows and shoved it behind his head. Steve caught his ponytail and tugged the elastic tie loose, carding his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

There was a small smile on Steve’s lips. “How’d you end up so normal?”

He reached out to grab another beer and held it up. “I’m as messed up as you. I only pretend to be normal.”

Steve took the offered beer, pulling his hand away to open it but immediately going back to stroking Bucky’s hair. “I always thought Loki and I were good when it came to sex. But maybe we weren’t. Maybe it wasn’t healthy.”

There was a sad irony to _that_ being Steve’s choice of conversation topics. “Are you seriously going to talk to me about having sex with Loki?”

Steve flushed pink. “Sorry.”

“It’s my own fault. I wanted you to talk. So talk.” Bucky eyed the remaining cans of beer and wondered if that would be enough to survive a conversation about Steve banging Loki. “But I reserve the right to make snarky comments and disparaging remarks about his character.”

Reaching down, Steve took Bucky’s metal hand in his. “I never cared about this, you know. It never bothered me. But I can only imagine what it was like for you to find out Loki was the reason for it and how betrayed you must feel that I was with him.” He gently pulled the metal fingers up to his lips and kissed them. 

Bucky couldn’t feel a touch that light even with SHIELD’s best embedded pressure sensors, but the sight of it made his chest feel tight. “You didn’t know.”

“I’m amazed you don’t hate me.”

“I’m the reason you had to fly to Europe.” He met Steve’s gaze. “So this meltdown of yours was my fault. I’m amazed you don’t hate me.” He’d cost Steve his relationship with Loki as well, but couldn’t quite bring himself to feel guilty for that one. Shaking himself, he tried to lighten the mood. “Don’t you dare tell me he was better in bed than me. There’s only so much my ego can take.”

Humming softly, Steve kept hold of Bucky’s hand, studying the joints and plates with unexpected intensity. “There’s nothing else like this in the world, is there?” 

“One of a kind prototype.”

Lines appeared on Steve’s brow. “Loki called you the Winter Soldier. What does that mean?”

That wasn’t an improvement in conversation topics, but he’d known Steve would start asking questions eventually. “It’s a strategy. What’s unknown is always scarier. A man is just a man. But if you build a reputation, a legend, a name, that’s more than just a man. It’s like Batman or the Dread Pirate Roberts. Same kind of idea.”

“And the Winter Soldier?”

“He’s a ghost. You never see him coming. It’s over before it starts.”

Steve’s throat moved as he swallowed. “It wasn’t a reconnaissance mission, was it?”

“It was for everyone else on the plane,” Bucky said carefully.

Huffing out a short breath, Steve let go of Bucky’s hand. “How many people have you killed?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“It feels like it should matter. Maybe it doesn’t.” He frowned and rubbed at his chin. “I guess I just want to know if it’s something you even keep track of. Maybe it’s not.”

“It’s easier not to think about it.” Bucky turned to face the laptop, not watching the screen but not wanting to face Steve either. “Directly? More than twenty, less than fifty. It’s not always that easy to tell. You think you’ve got the intel to know who’s inside a building or a car, but intel can be bad or just old. SHIELD tries to minimize collateral damage but it still happens. Once you start counting, you'll never stop.”

“Can you tell me about HYDRA?”

Now Bucky did turn back to look at Steve. “You aren’t cleared for that. And I’m off the clock.”

“What does Loki have to do with HYDRA?”

“How did you,” he stopped, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. “Don’t answer that. Because I’d like to continue pretending you don’t know where he is and wouldn’t go running back to him in a heartbeat.” 

Steve’s hand went still in his hair. “I’m not-”

“Do not lie to me. You can fall apart on me and use me for sex and I’m good with all of that. But I cannot help you when you lie to me.” 

“It’s over,” Steve said forcefully. “Yeah, I…I went back to him, like you said. But it’s over now. He ended it.” There was an iceberg beneath Steve’s words and Bucky really didn’t want to keep digging. 

Between the options in front of him, he decided to take the lesser of the evils and sat up. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it with food. “Do me a favor and heat up the egg rolls.”

Making an excuse about checking in with SHIELD, he slipped out onto the balcony and shut the door behind him. The evening air was chilly. With his back to the apartment, he dialed the number he'd seen listed as Adam's and wasn't surprised when it went to a generic voicemail message. He didn't bother introducing himself; Loki would know who he was. "I’m giving you one chance to make things right with Steve. Whatever closure he needs to get on with his life, you'd damn well better give it to him or, so help me, I will hunt you down and there won't be enough of you left to bury." He ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket, not ready to go back inside. 

With days like this, he probably needed to go see the SHIELD counselor as much as Steve did. On second thought, there was no probably about it. At the very least, he should drop into one of the support groups. He'd heard the new guy leading the Tuesday sessions - Sam something - was pretty amazing. Following that up by having a long conversation with Thor about _not_ involving Loki in SHIELD business and he might have to consider himself a mature, well-adjusted adult.

That was an unsettling thought. 

He let himself back into the apartment, shivering a little from the cold. Steve was microwaving a plate piled high with egg rolls. For the third time that night, he wished he’d brought vodka instead of beer.

“You were always the World War Two buff, so let’s start there.”


	17. Chapter 17

Loki set the tumbler on the kitchen island and poured out two fingers of scotch, setting the bottle carefully down beside it. He stared down into the glass as he swirled the scotch. Across the island, his phone lurked, sullenly and ominously silent. The number of people who had his new number was now three. He'd thought it was only two. 

Only one had called him since the disastrous trip to Europe and it hadn't been the one he wanted.

He left the phone and took the scotch, wandering back to the living room to stand beside the desk and stare out at the ocean. Bruno raised his head, whining softly. Loki glanced down and tried to smile, although he didn't think the dog cared one way or another. It wasn't the same. He'd barely had twenty four hours where the beach house felt like a home; he'd almost had a family. That happiness had been overshadowed by SHIELD and, after that, when Steve hadn't come back, the house felt empty.

At first, he'd thought it must not be safe for Steve to return. That's what he'd told himself as he laid in bed at night and stared up at the ceiling, shoving the growing anxiety that something had gone wrong into the back of his mind. There was no indication from Thor that anything terrible had happened to Steve to prevent him from coming back. He hadn’t dared make contact himself, if SHIELD had prevented Steve from coming back. 

Barnes' words echoed in his ears. He wanted Loki to make things right and Loki didn't even know what that meant. _Closure_. Steve wanted closure. 

"That answers that question." He swirled the scotch some more. 

He wanted to be angry, but there was little point in it. He'd known the rescue mission for what it was; a risk. His whole life had been risks. He'd learned to weigh them and learned to take them. This had been a chance to do good, to make amends in a small way, but he'd underestimated the stakes this time. The horror on Steve's face when he'd come around the corner to see Loki with three dead bodies at his feet was an image he'd never forget. He'd been so rattled by it that his nerves had been raw by time they'd landed a safe distance away. It had been a stupid argument. Ignited by his own guilt and dismay over what Steve had seen.

Setting the glass of scotch down on the desk, untouched, he took a seat on the couch. He patted his thigh for Bruno, who roused himself from the dog bed and hopped up onto the couch. The dog lacked any fundamental understanding of being too large to be a lap dog and attempted to curl up entirely on top of Loki. He snuffled against Loki's throat, licking softly. 

"You wouldn't love me either." Loki scratched the dog's head. "If you understood why you're here. But you're just a dog so as long as I feed you and walk you, you don't care that I'm a monster, do you?" Bruno licked his chin in response.

While he didn't doubt Barnes' ability to make good on his threat, he didn't have many options. He could find Steve, but what could he say? There was nothing to return, no clothing or trinkets to provide any justification for being there. And Steve hadn't asked him directly; he might not even know Barnes had called, which meant Loki might be an unwelcome intrusion. Still, a face to face conversation was the least that Loki owed him after everything Steve had lost because of him. He'd run away before, after the fire, and Steve had been furious over his cowardice. 

Looking around the beach house, he mentally listed off the preparations he would have to make; precautions for the possibility that he might not return. Lives were messy things, full of paperwork and dogs that needed to be fed, none of which cared whether or not SHIELD locked him up and threw away the key. 

"We almost had everything, didn't we? For a while." He pressed his face against Bruno's head, rubbing his cheek over dark fur. For a few hours at least, his life had been perfect; it was more than he had any right to expect.

He'd done the right thing, however little comfort that was. Whatever happened to him, he didn't doubt that going after Barnes had been the right choice. Thor would've given him away eventually; he had the unfortunate flaw of believing no challenge was insurmountable and probably thought SHIELD could be brought around to the idea of making Loki a card-carrying member. He doubted aiding in the rescue of three agents would be enough to earn SHIELD's good graces, but it might keep them from shooting him on sight.

The irony wasn't lost on him that he and Steve had nearly swapped places, effectively turning everything they'd dreamed and hoped for together on its head. Now he had a chance at a normal life and Steve had embraced a life with SHIELD and they were no more or less compatible now than they'd been before; two ships passing in the night, never quite making the right connection. 

One night, two days. With the drive into the city, he could be gone at least that long. Too long to leave Bruno alone, but maybe bringing him along would work in Loki’s favor. Bruno had the sad eyed, puppy gaze down to an art and he’d seemed to like Steve.

“Let’s get packed then, shall we?” He nudged Bruno off his lap, whistling for him to follow into the bedroom. “What do you think? Jeans too casual?” Bruno hopped up onto the bed and did a circle before settling down, paws out in front of him. His head tipped to the side as he watched Loki hunt through the closet.

“I’m talking to a dog,” Loki muttered. Bruno woofed softly.

A couple of soft vee-neck t-shirts went into a duffel bag – Steve had always loved those and Loki was not above exploiting that – along with coordinated flannel shirts and an extra pair of jeans; the usual socks and briefs went in with the toiletries. He packed a separate, smaller bag with dog food, food and water dishes, and extra bottled waters for Bruno, tossing in a couple of his favorite toys and his leash as well. Once Bruno realized they were going for a ride, he was nearly vibrating with excitement, dashing back and forth between Loki and the front door. Pulling on a jacket, Loki grabbed keys, his wallet and phone, and scanned over the house one last time. He hoped it wasn’t for the last time. Bruno bolted the moment the door was open, but he didn’t go far, immediately circling back to Loki as though trying to encourage him to go faster. He opened the passenger door of the Jeep first, letting Bruno jump in, and then tossed the bag into the back.

“Crazy dog,” Loki said fondly as he got behind the wheel. Bruno only panted at him, trying to wag his tail against the seat.

They stopped once along the drive, finding a rest stop with a pet area for Bruno and a vending machine where Loki could grab a candy bar. He called Thor to let him know he was coming and left a message that he needed a place to stay overnight, dog included. He had no idea if Jane liked dogs, but he was willing to put money on Bruno’s ability to be charming. 

Traffic was manageable; they reached Thor’s by late afternoon and pulled up to the curb. Thor and Jane shared a respectable brick townhouse in a quiet, suburban neighborhood. There was a maple tree turned fire red in the front yard, just beginning to litter the lawn with leaves. He slung the duffel over one shoulder and hooked the leash onto Bruno’s collar to let him out of the Jeep. Bruno immediately stuck his nose to the ground, trying to smell everything he could on the short walk up to the front steps.

Loki paused to take a deep breath, squaring his shoulders before he started up the concrete stairs. This was _normal_. Normal people visited their family members; normal people brought their pets on trips. His palms began to sweat despite the chilled autumn air. At his side, Bruno’s ears perked up when he rang the doorbell. He heard footsteps inside and braced himself without knowing why or what for. The door swung open; warm air that smelled of cinnamon and cloves swept out to envelop him. Jane Foster smiled brightly before her attention was drawn to Bruno.

“It’s Adam now, right?” She bent forward, holding one hand out for Bruno to sniff. When he gave her a very enthusiastic lick, her smile widened. “He’s beautiful. What’s his name?”

“Bruno.”

“Such a good boy,” she cooed at the dog, scratching behind his ears. When she straightened up, she waved him inside. “Thor just ran out for some fresh salad and bread for dinner. I hope you like lasagna. It’s nothing fancy, but Thor’s been tied up. Oh, not literally! And I’m trying to get a grant proposal written by Sunday night, so we needed something easy.”

“Lasagna’s fine,” Loki interjected, certain she would’ve kept going if he didn’t. He kept Bruno close despite the dog’s best attempts to investigate everything in reach. “I’m sorry for the short notice.”

“It’s no problem,” she assured him quickly. “You’re welcome anytime now. I mean, you were always welcome. That wasn’t…that really came out wrong.”

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets because he didn’t know what else to do with them. “It’s alright.”

“I’ve got the guest room ready. And it’s totally okay if Bruno sleeps on the bed so don’t worry about it.” She led him to the second floor of the townhouse and a cheerfully decorated bedroom with southern facing windows. “Bathroom’s down the hall. Extra towels are under the sink. Our bedroom is on the ground floor so don’t worry about making noise if you need to get up or anything.”

Loki dropped his bag onto the bed. Considering he’d only given them a few hours’ notice, he was stunned that she’d put so much effort into making him feel welcome. “Thank you, I…this is…you didn’t need to do all of this. I would’ve been fine with a couch.”

“You’re family.” She smiled shyly. “There is one thing I need from you though.”

He nodded, expecting a demand to disarm or not bring weapons into her home. “Name it.”

“I’m completely behind on the apple pie and I promised Thor. Are you up for peeling apples?”

When Thor returned a half hour later, Loki had a small mountain of apple peelings in front of him, Jane had flour in her hair and a smudge on her nose, and Bruno was stretched out on the floor near the stove, snoring. His stomach ached from laughing at Jane’s stories of floundering undergraduate students and senseless academic bureaucracy. They nearly missed the sound of the garage door opening, except Bruno, who raised his head and began wagging his tail. Thor came up the stairs and stopped in this tracks, surveying the scene.

“Something smells delicious.” He set the canvas grocery bag on the counter before leaning down to give Jane a quick kiss. “Do you need any help?”

“I think we’re good here.” Jane flashed Loki a conspiratorial smile. “But if you could hold down the fort while I run upstairs to check my email, that would be great.” She tugged her apron off and put it away. “Lasagna will be ready soon. I’ll set the table when I get back.”

“Go on.” Thor ushered her toward the stairs. He was smiling when he came back and began to unpack the grocery bag. “What brings you to the city?”

Loki plucked a long piece of apple peel from the pile and chewed on it. Before Steve, he would’ve simply lied to Thor or dodged the question. He dug his phone out of his back pocket and set it out on the counter, replaying the voice message Barnes left him for Thor. 

“I don’t know what to make of it,” he said when the message finished. “Is there anything I should know?”

“Barnes is hardly rational when it comes to Steve. It’s his greatest strategic weakness,” Thor said thoughtfully. He moved to a cupboard and took down a small stack of plates to begin setting the table. “But perhaps he has reason to be concerned. Steve has changed. He’s hardly the same person, it seems. He’s doing well at SHIELD. Very well. There are many who see a bright future for him as a field agent. I haven’t spoken to him about you, but I can’t say I’ve seen him much since we returned. Did something happen between you?”

The memory of the incident in the helicopter stirred unpleasantly. He’d barely considered a handful of heated words to be worth calling a fight, but perhaps he’d underestimated their impact.

“I overreacted, said some things I probably shouldn’t have. You know me and my big mouth. It wasn’t any worse than any fight we’ve had before. I expected him to come back or call, something, once he thought it was safe.” He motioned to the phone. “This makes me believe he has no intention of coming back. But I don’t know why.”

“Anything I say is speculation.”

He gathered up the apple peels to dispose them, feeling unexpectedly irritated at no longer having anything useful to do. “I don’t have anything else to go on right now. I’ll try to talk to him, tomorrow. But I don’t know if he’ll even want to see me.” He stopped, keeping his emotions in check. The possibility that Steve simply didn’t want to see him again was too painful.

Thor pulled a bottle of wine from the shelf and handed it over to Loki, along with a corkscrew, before he finished laying the table settings. “You’ve changed as well.”

“And maybe it’s that simple? That we’ve grown apart.” He didn’t want to believe that was the end of the story. If it was true and they had grown apart, then he wanted to believe it was possible for them to grow together again.

Jane returned as Loki was pouring the wine. She beamed at Thor, thanking him for setting the table before she set herself to the task of transferring the sizzling lasagna from the oven to a serving dish and the waiting apple pies into the oven to cook while they ate. Thor dished out salad and sliced the bread while Jane served the lasagna. She made a point of showing off the set of silver serving spoons Thor had brought home from a recent trip to Egypt. Loki raised his eyebrows at Thor, who only smiled back at him and shrugged. 

“Tell me about your grant proposal,” Loki said as he cut into the lasagna.

She gave him a strange look, then glanced at Thor. “Are you serious?”

With a smile, Thor leaned back in his chair a degree and raised his wine glass to his lips. “She's really quite amazing.”

“It’s not. Really.” Jane blushed. “It’s…I have this theory.”

Loki mostly lost track of the conversation between Jane’s explanation of L2 bounded curvature conjecture and her excitement over recent developments in measuring the growth of black holes. At some point, Thor realized Loki hadn't touched his wine and got up, returning with a glass of water and a weighted look that meant there would be questions later. They finished off the pan of lasagna - mostly Thor’s accomplishment - and managed to have room for a slice of apple pie. He helped clear the table and load the dishwasher, letting the warm and easy laughter between Jane and Thor wash over him. Once the kitchen was clean, he slipped away to take Bruno for a short walk through the neighborhood.

When he returned, the kitchen lights were off and only the quiet hum of the dishwasher gave any indication of activity. The aroma of apple pie lingered in the air. He got Bruno's food and water dishes settled in one corner of the kitchen, crouching beside him and stroking soft brown fur as the dog ate.

"He's good for you," Thor said quietly. "The dog."

"He used to hunt pheasants. I suppose he must miss it sometimes, all that land to run; all that freedom. He has so much energy." He stood up, turning slowly to lean against the counter. "I put a bullet through his owner's skull and I never asked why."

"Would you like to know?"

It wouldn't change anything. Maybe Thor could tell him that John Garrett had been a terrible person who deserved to die, but nothing Garrett had done or been could wash the blood off of Loki's hands. He had an uneasy truce with his past; as long as he left the dead alone, their ghosts left him alone. How long that truce would hold, he didn't know. It had been easier to tune out the ghosts when Steve was there. 

Thor busied himself with the electric kettle, making tea. "Are you alright? I noticed you weren't drinking."

"Haven't had a taste for it lately." He thought of the glass of scotch he'd poured at the beach house and how he'd left it behind, untouched. There was too much there that he wasn’t ready to talk about. Instead, he gestured to the house around him. "You've got a good thing here. She's an amazing woman and you've built a good life. I envy you. Envy all of this. I've never had this."

"Not even with Steve?"

"It was never honest. There were too many lies; too much that I hid from him. Always the threat of him finding out the truth hanging over my head." He sighed, wishing he’d never said anything that night or that he hadn’t allowed Steve to come along, even if he’d had to handcuff him to the bed to keep him home. "I would've sold my soul a dozen times over for him to never know the truth. Would've done anything. I tried, that night. Tried to keep him from seeing. I knew it would change things between us, but I didn’t think…I feel like I'm going to the executioner tomorrow."

The kettle began to whistle. Thor poured out the water into two mugs, sliding one across to Loki. "Give him more credit than that. He and Barnes are still close and the difference between you and Barnes is academic."

Restless, Loki accept the tea and returned to the dining table. "Maybe I'm the one who can't handle him knowing. Maybe I see my own fears reflected back at me.”

“Is that introspection I hear? You’ve never been one for that.” 

“I’m full of surprises.”

Thor took a seat across the table. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

“You’ve done more than I deserve.” He tried to smile, moving reflexively to cover the scar on his side with one arm. “It’s strange. I have everything I wanted. Except him. A house, a normal life, well, mostly normal. The dog, even the homework. All part of the dream we had. But it’s not the same. Without him, I don’t know what any of it means. If he doesn’t want to come back, if he’s moved on or gone back to Barnes...I don’t know.”

“What will you do?”

Setting the tea down, he tried to suppress a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature. “Move on, I guess. If he can do it, I suppose I can too. I wish…I wish he’d told me. Said goodbye. Somehow. I suppose that’s my fault too.”

“Perhaps it’s not as hopeless as you think. Wait until tomorrow.”

"I don't even know where he lives."

"That, I can help you with. I'll text you his address."

Loki nodded his thanks. He pleaded exhaustion and retreated to the guest room with Bruno. Changing and getting ready for bed was stiff and mechanical; when he slipped beneath the covers, Bruno immediately curled against his chest. He wrapped his arm over the dog’s sinewy body to pull him close and press his face against his fur. The shaking came without tears, more fear than grief. Scenarios paraded through his mind of how tomorrow might go. 

Would Steve even be there? Or would Loki stand at a faceless front door waiting senselessly for someone who didn't want him there. 

He thought of a hundred things Steve might say; cruel, angry, or merely indifferent. The imaginary words tormented him, pulling sleep from his hands the harder he reached for it. When it had been his choice to remain hidden, to let Steve believe Loki was dead if he wanted to, it had been easier. Seeing him, touching him, hearing him say _I love you_ again; it was much worse than before. He'd fooled himself into believing they were both better off if he stayed away once, but he couldn't swallow that lie again. He wasn't better without Steve; he wasn't even _okay_ without Steve. But he would have to find a way.

Mentally, he tried to prepare for the worst, without actually knowing which awful scenario was the worst. It was possible that Steve was hoping Loki would take the hint and disappear without a confrontation; Barnes had taken that option from him.

 _I'm sorry_ , he thought. Those would be the first words out of his mouth. The first words, the last words, maybe the only words. He'd say it a thousand times, more if Steve wanted to hear it. Sorry for the ridiculous fight and for every drop of blood he'd spilt; every life he'd taken; every lie he'd ever told; for everything. If Steve would just let him say that much, then he could say goodbye and maybe it would be worth the pain. He could accept that, in time, couldn't he? He wasn't sure Steve was going to give him a choice. 

Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the shifting patterns of shadow on the ceiling, trying unsuccessfully to will himself to sleep. If he showed up exhausted and wrung out, he'd be that much more likely to say or do something wrong and ruin what sliver of hope he might have at getting Steve back. That he hadn't even realized he'd _lost_ Steve until Barnes called certainly wasn't helping his case. He replayed the argument in the helicopter over and over, trying to figure out why that particular fight had been the end. It made no sense; there had to be variables he was missing, pieces he didn’t have or couldn’t see clearly. There had to be more going on with Steve than Loki realized and that was frightening. Steve had always been an open book, unashamed and unapologetic in his emotions, but he hadn’t said anything to let Loki know it was over or that he even wanted it to be over.

Bruno whined and tilted his head to lick at Loki's cheek, as though to comfort him or tell him it would all work out in the end. Life was simpler for a dog. Loki absently rubbed a hand over Bruno's side.

"I don't know how to fix this," he sighed.

After tossing and turning until nearly two in the morning, he managed to sleep fitfully until nearly eight. Groggy, he took care of Bruno first, then showered and dressed, spending far too long on his hair. He felt awkward and nervous, like a teenager going to visit his first crush and wanting to make a good impression. It was ridiculous; if Steve wanted nothing to do with him, what his hair looked like would hardly matter.

Jane was reading at the dining table when he came downstairs. She waved him toward the kitchen. "There's coffee and bagels and stuff. Help yourself."

"Where's Thor?"

"Leaf duty. The back fence is lined with oak trees and we get crazy amounts of leaves every fall."

The mental image of Thor doing something as normal as raking leaves stopped Loki as he reached for a coffee mug. Maybe Thor had never had to choose between a normal life and being part of Asgard. His hand shook slightly as he poured the coffee. He added cream and sugar on autopilot, barely seeing what he was doing. A new idea was unfolding in his mind and it left him unsteady. He filled up Bruno's bowls before he left the kitchen, walking carefully to not spill his coffee. Sure enough, he could see Thor working in the backyard, dressed in jeans and a red plaid flannel.

"Do you know what he does," he asked carefully, not turning around. "For Asgard. And SHIELD."

"I do. It was one of the first things he told me when we started dating. Not the first date, maybe the third." The chair creaked as Jane got up from the table. Her footsteps were quiet on the hardwood floor, coming to his side. She gave him a small smile, holding her own coffee mug. "Most of the time, when he comes home, I make hot cocoa and cookies. We curl up on the couch and he talks about what happened. I think it helps to have that. A routine."

Loki swallowed. "I never thought a normal life was even an option."

"I wouldn't call it normal. But it works for us. Sometimes he doesn't want to talk about it and sometimes I wish he'd do something else. That's our compromise, I guess. Communication is really important." 

All this time, he thought, and the problem had been _him_ ; his own unwillingness to build an honest life. It was easy to blame Odin, so easy that he'd never looked too deeply into what he was choosing to deny himself. He'd been so focused on his cover story, on _having_ a cover story, that he'd lost himself in his own maze of lies. Maybe that had been his punishment for the life he'd led, for his own belief that he didn't deserve to know happiness. The idea that he could've been honest with Steve from the beginning and still had their simple, normal life was a deep ache in his chest. He and Steve had had their own routine, their own compromise, he supposed. When he got home from doing Odin's dirty work, he drank and they fucked and they never talked about any of it.

"I don't know Steve very well," Jane said quietly. "But he always seemed like a great guy. Always putting everyone else first."

"He does that," Loki mused. "To a fault."

"Thor does too."

Loki arched an eyebrow, giving her a sideways look. "Are we talking about the same Thor?"

She nudged him with an elbow and laughed. "When you're with him, he's in big brother mode. You never see him when he isn't. He frets like a mother hen most of the time and usually about you. And he always feels like he has to set an example. He thinks he has to be tough and strong all the time, like he always has the answers, for you."

"I don't...I never," he stopped, uncertain.

"I know." She smiled at him. "It's hard for him to think of you as anything but his little brother. That probably drives you crazy."

There was a catch in his throat. He turned to face the windows again, watching Thor rake leaves into a large pile. "You have been far kinder to me than I deserve."

"Don't be silly. You're family." She set her hand lightly on Loki's arm and squeezed. "Maybe next time, you can bring Steve with you. We'd love to have both of you over sometime."

He nodded, not speaking because he knew his voice would shake. She left him standing at the windows and returned to her reading. When he finally roused himself, his coffee grown cold, he saw Bruno curled up at her feet and gave the dog a mock glare. Bruno knew who would be most likely to spoil him with affection and treats. He returned to the kitchen for a refill and found the cream cheese to put on a bagel. 

"Would you mind if I left Bruno here? I don't know how long I'll be gone. It may not be long." 

It would be very short if Steve shut the door in his face or threw him out on his ass.

"Not at all," Jane said cheerfully, reaching down to scratch behind Bruno's ears. "Saturdays are usually pretty low key around here so don't worry about it."

"Thank you."

He ate and then spent another half hour in the upstairs bathroom before he decided he was as presentable as he could possibly be. He brought the bag of dog food downstairs on the way out, saying goodbye to Jane. Thor was still working in the yard and Loki didn't want to interrupt. When he checked his phone, he saw that Thor had sent Steve's new address. He hated that he was simply going to show up at Steve's door. It would've been better to arrange a meeting, but he couldn't risk having Steve simply ignore him.

His nerves were on edge and he felt nauseous by the time he pulled up to the community's security gate. The guard took down his name and license plate, as well as Steve's name, and gave him a visitor pass before letting him through. It still felt strange to call himself a different name.

As he climbed the steps of Steve's building, he second guessed his decision to leave Bruno with Jane and Thor. At least having a dog would've provided him a way to mask his nervousness. He combed his fingers through his hair one last time and took a deep breath. His knuckles rapped against Steve's door, his heart in his throat, and it sounded too loud in the stillness. Counting off the seconds, he waited and all the carefully planned sentences he'd prepared fell apart. He heard the sound of a dead bolt disengaging before the door opened.

Steve's eyes went wide for a spit second, then his expression turned blank and cold. He opened the door only as wide as he had to before crossing his arms. "Which one of them told you where I live?"

Loki's heart felt like it was going to tear him apart from the inside. His mind immediately went to a lie; an easy, comfortable lie. Instead, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. This time, he was going to be completely honest about everything. "Thor gave me your address. And this is why I asked him for it." He turned up the volume and tapped the voicemail from Barnes to play it.

A fraction of the hostility in Steve's posture eased. He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. "I'm fine. I'll let Bucky know you were here."

"Steve." He was surprised to see the physical flinch. "I...um...I'm sorry."

Steve clenched his jaw, looking away. "These things happen. No point dragging it out, is there?"

"Why?" Loki's voice broke. He clenched his hands so tightly in his jacket pockets that his fingernails dug into his palms. "At least give me that much. Give me a reason."

Lines deepened on Steve's brow and he looked confused. "A reason for what?"

"Why you didn't come back." Loki tried to swallow. His eyes were beginning to sting. He couldn't believe Steve could be so casual about it, as though the reason were so obvious or inconsequential or Loki was simply too stupid to understand.

"You said you wanted space," Steve said stubbornly.

All the air froze in Loki's chest. His mouth worked but no sound came out the first several times he tried. Could it be that simple? Finally, he managed to keep his tongue from sticking against the back of his teeth. "I meant a few _days_. I thought...I thought it would be better to see how SHIELD reacted..." he trailed off, seeing a look of horror dawning on Steve's face.

Abruptly, Steve turned away. He went into the kitchen and bent forward, gripping the edge of the counter. Loki tentatively followed, taking slow steps and staying a comfortable distance away. He took in the apartment and felt a little sick at how empty and soulless it felt. There was a line of empty liquor bottles along the end of the counter.

"Steve," he said softly. "Did you think I meant...is that what happened? I overreacted. I wasn't thinking. I’m so sorry, Steve.”

Internally, he was shaking with relief. A misunderstanding. A simple, stupid misunderstanding; that’s all it had been. They could work through this, he knew they could. They could talk about it and laugh at how foolish they’d been and then they would be fine. He held back when he wanted nothing more than to go to Steve. No doubt Steve was similarly shocked at how ridiculous they’d been. Biting his bottom lip, he watched Steve take several long, deep breaths before he straightened up, staring at the wall rather than Loki, and rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Steve?” He forced his voice to sound light. “It’s going to be alright. Just a stupid misunderstanding, that’s all.”

Steve was shaking his head, still not looking at Loki. “It’s not. It doesn’t matter.”

“What? I’ve been waiting for you to come back. It’s been weeks. And I thought it was SHIELD. If I’d known, if I’d realized that you thought I meant-”

“I slept with Bucky,” Steve interrupted curtly. “And…and a few other people.”

Loki choked, his gut twisting painfully. A wave of cold set the hair on arms on end, followed by a sickening flash of heat and fury. His pulse thundered in his ears. One argument and a few weeks apart was all it had taken Steve to throw everything they’d had, and everything they could’ve had, away.

“You had my number,” Loki said hoarsely. “You could’ve picked up the goddamn phone and called me before you…”

“You do not get to put this on me.” Arms folded over his chest, Steve rounded on him angrily. His face flushed red. “You lied to me for months, you used me as some cover story because your real job was murdering people, and then your father tries to have me killed and burns down my house. I lost everything, Loki. My books, the pictures of my mom, her recipes. I lost my entire life because of you. And when I try to meet you halfway, you call me sick and act like there’s something wrong with me. I am doing the best I can to deal with all this shit and I’m sorry if it’s just not good enough for you. At least Bucky was there when I needed him and not just when it was convenient!”

Stung, Loki stumbled backwards. His head was reeling as he tried to catch up with what Steve was saying.

“Just go.” Steve’s shoulders hunched. “Please.”

He bolted from the apartment before Steve could stay anything else. He had to grip the hand rail to keep from swaying and possibly falling down the stairs. Dazed, he found the Jeep and climbed in, but couldn’t find the energy to put the key in the ignition. What Steve had said was more than he could take in and process and it felt like only the bare surface of everything Steve had been keeping bottled up inside. He didn’t know what to do and had no idea what the _right_ thing to do even was. 

Time passed and he watched leaves from the nearby trees drift and dance to the ground, unable to move. His thoughts finally settled into a numb haze of shock and disbelief. 

He’d go back and get Bruno, then return to the beach house. He tried to focus on what was right in front of him. He needed to drive from here to Thor’s. He’d need to stop on the way home and pick up groceries. If he kept putting one foot in front of another, eventually he’d end up somewhere. He didn’t think it particularly mattered where. He’d finish school, find a job; be normal. He’d been alone before Steve, he could do it again; he didn’t need anyone.

“No,” he said suddenly, his voice loud and unfamiliar. He went for his phone, fingers shaking as he called Thor’s number. He barely gave Thor time to answer before he began. “I need help.”

“What happened?”

He explained what he needed to Thor, who had the sense not to ask questions and promised to call him back as soon as it was arranged. Barely fifteen minutes later, a series of text messages came through. He silently praised Thor as he left the Jeep and raced back up the steps to Steve’s door. This time, he pounded loudly on the door. He waited anxiously, knocking a second time before he heard any sounds of life inside the apartment.

Steve’s eyes were red and his face was blotchy from crying. “What?” he said as he opened the door.

“Give me two hours.” He checked his watch quickly. “Two and a half.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Two and a half hours and if you still want us to be over after that, you’ll never see or hear from me again.”

“Why?” Steve sniffed. The suspicion in his voice hurt.

“Please." He knew he sounded desperate. “I’m not ready to give up.”

“Loki. I told you-”

“I don’t care who you’ve slept with.” It took effort to force himself to hold Steve’s gaze. “I wouldn’t know moral high ground if I was standing on it, even if I could find it. Two and a half hours. That’s all I’m asking.”

Steve wiped at his eyes. “Let me grab my jacket.”

They didn’t speak as they walked to the Jeep or as Loki drove. Steve didn’t even ask where they were going, he simply stared out the passenger window. 

Their destination was in a quiet business complex not too far away from the SHIELD hub. Loki found a parking spot relatively close to the front of the building, looking for signs to alert him to the right office. When he found the door he was looking for, he held it open for Steve and followed him inside. The waiting area was neat and blandly decorated, with a collection of magazines and a coffee maker sitting on table against the wall. He approached the receptionist’s desk and gave her their names before he took a seat. 

Steve hesitated, looking around the room several times before he finally sat down in the chair next to Loki. “This is a marriage counselor,” he whispered. 

“I know. She’s cleared for SHIELD work so you can be honest.”

“You want us to go to therapy?” Steve looked at him strangely.

“Just one session. You’ll go first. It’s an hour. If you want to leave after that, I’ll call you a cab. If you stay until after I’m done, I’ll take you home. After that, it’s up to you.” He tried to smile but didn’t quite manage.

A few minutes later, a tall, striking woman whose dark brown hair was streaked with red emerged from the inner office and approached them. “Mister Sharpe?”

Loki gave a nod, standing up to shake her hand. “Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice.” The way she studied him made him think that she knew exactly who he really was.

“And you must be Steve Rogers.” She held out her hand to Steve as well. “Doctor Victoria Hand. Do you have any questions before we get started?”

Steve shook his head. “I just want to get this over with.”

His response didn’t seem to faze her. “If you could step into my office.”

Loki was left alone in the waiting area with nothing but the elevator music playing softly in the background. Anxiously, he started at the top of the stack of magazines and began to make his way through them, barely able to focus long enough to read any of them. Every time he glanced at the clock, it seemed that only seconds had passed since he’d last looked and there were still agonizing minutes to go. If Steve decided there was no hope, he would go back to the beach house knowing that he’d tried to get Steve help. It was nothing compared to the damage he’d done, but it was a small step in what he hoped was the right direction. Maybe it would be possible for them to remain friends.

Or become friends, he thought, since they'd mostly skipped that part and gone straight to lovers. All he was certain of was that he couldn't let it end like this. He had to know that Steve was okay, that he would be _okay_.

The second hand on the wall clock had already passed the hour when the door opened and Steve stepped out, shaking hands once again before he returned to the waiting area. He looked dazed and barely glanced at Loki when he moved to a chair and sat down as though exhausted. Loki resisted the urge to ask questions as he stood up, focusing on Dr. Hand instead. When the door closed behind him, he knew it could be the last time he ever saw Steve.

"What should I call you?" Victoria Hand picked up a notebook and pen from a comfortable leather armchair before she sat down.

"My name is Loki." He settled in the chair across from her. "But you knew that."

"I did. But your answer tells me a lot about why you're here."

"I love him," Loki told her. "I've never loved anything or anyone as much as I love him. And if I'm going to lose him, I'm going to go out fighting."

She nodded, glancing down at her notebook and betraying nothing. "Let's talk about your father."

Loki took a deep breath. This had been his idea. If he was going to expect Steve to be honest, he would have to honor that intent as well. Mentally, he tried to dismantle every roadblock and defense that would push him toward lying. If coming here could help him treat Steve better and help him rebuild their relationship, he was willing to answer any question she had.

An hour later, he felt as wrung out as a dishcloth pinned to a clothes line. He managed to maintain his composure as Dr. Hand lead him out of her office. His attention went immediately to the waiting area, relief flooding through him when he saw Steve sitting in the same chair with a magazine open in his hands. He sunk down into the adjacent chair and they sat in silence for several minutes before Loki managed to rouse himself enough to speak.

"I should get you home," he said lightly.

Steve nodded slightly. "I...um...I hope it's okay. I...I made us appointments for next week. Both of us."

"It's fine." He tried not to read anything into it and fished the car keys out of his pocket. "Should we go?"

On the drive home, he made a split decision and detoured from the route back to Steve's apartment. He didn't say anything and after the first couple of turns, he knew that he didn't need to tell Steve where they were going. He pulled up to the curb beside the empty lot and shut off the engine. They sat in silence for a long time. Steve's focus was on the ashes left behind after the city had cleared the bulk of the rubble away from the burned out lot. He opened the passenger door and got out, climbing over the police barricade set up to keep passersby from trespassing. Loki followed, shivering inside his jacket.

Steve finally spoke, his voice quiet. "I'm not the same person who bought this house."

"I'm not the same person who helped you move," Loki said.

"I don't know what you want from me."

He stared down at the blackened and charred remains of what had been their home. "There's nothing I can do to replace what you've lost. The memories, the history, everything. I know all of that's gone and it's my fault. I brought this into your life. But I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, however I can, if you'll let me. Even if it's just as a friend, I'll do whatever it takes to make it right."

Steve bowed his head and stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. "We have a lot to talk about. But I'm not ready."

"I can wait," Loki said faintly.

"I can't make any promises either."

"I'm not asking for promises." He managed to keep his voice steady. "I need to know you're okay. That's what matters." Silently, he stood at Steve's side and tried not to picture the house before Balder had destroyed it. Finally, he took a deep breath. "I've killed one hundred and seventeen people. Including the men who did this. I murdered my own father. At least, the only man I knew as a father. I killed him because he took this from me. And I don't regret it. I don't regret anything that led me to you. I know I'm a monster. But I'm trying to be more than that. Better than that. You showed me that I could be...something other than what Odin made me. Whatever happens between us, you gave me that. You gave me hope for something different, for a better life than what I had."

Steve inhaled shakily. "Bucky told me he wanted space. When he left me. I didn't even remember that's what he said until today. That's why I thought you meant..."

"His target in Kabul; Grant Ward. That wasn't one of mine," Loki blurted out. "It was Asgard, but it wasn't me. I didn't....that wasn't me." He met Steve's eyes for an instant and then looked away.

"Who was it?"

Loki shook his head. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"Oh," Steve breathed. "It was your mom, wasn't it?"

"Please. No one can know. It's better SHIELD believes they were all mine."

"Loki." Steve's shoulders slumped. "I'm so sorry."

"We're both sorry." He didn't resist when Steve reached out to take his hand, weaving their fingers together. "There's no happy ending for villains, you know. That's what I am. It's what I've always been. I just want you to be happy."


	18. Chapter 18

Their first joint therapy session was a disaster.

By the time Dr. Hand reeled them in and suggested they take a break, Steve was surprised Loki hadn't taken a swing at him. He was even more surprised that he hadn't taken a swing at Loki.

"I want a divorce," Steve said hotly, fingers digging grooves into his biceps from folding his arms so tightly.

"You would've had to have married me first," Loki shot back. "Which you never really wanted. What bothered you the most? The monogamy or the fact that I'm not _Bucky_."

He nearly let that slide, gritting his teeth to keep himself from saying something he really shouldn't. "Don't bring him into this."

"You keep dragging him back into our lives. How am I supposed to compete with that?"

"It's not a competition!"

The bell on Victoria Hand's desk rang loudly. She fixed them both with a stern look that silenced yet another budding argument. "All I'm hearing right now is noise. I need you to focus. When you argue about Agent Barnes, what are you really talking about?"

Steve shifted uneasily. Her use of the word _Agent_ reminded him that only the privilege of doctor and patient prevented her from revealing Loki's existence to SHIELD. Seeing their time was - _thankfully_ \- almost over, he reached for his messenger bag, eying the door.

She caught his movement and recognized it for what it was; an escape. Unruffled, she smiled pleasantly. “I’ll see you both separately before we try another session together. Put some thought into what you’d like to discuss next time before you go.”

Whether it was her assumption that they would come back at all or because Loki headed for the reception desk without any sign of hesitation that compelled him, he wasn't sure, but he pulled out his phone and set a time for an individual session during the upcoming week with the receptionist. He wasn't sure why they were bothering to keep trying when they'd done nothing but fight about everything and nothing for the past hour.

"Do you want to do this now? Might as well get it over with." Loki fished his car keys out of his pocket.

"There's a bar over on Seventh. You can drink." It came out harsher than Steve intended.

He climbed into the passenger side of Loki's Jeep and they said nothing on the drive across town. All his life, he'd been told that he was stubborn, but Loki was giving him a run for his money. Steve couldn't imagine why Loki wanted to keep trying. He'd betrayed Loki in the one of the worst ways possible and he knew Loki was furious about it; he saw the way Loki's jaw went tight every time anything remotely adjacent to _sex_ was mentioned. In fact, it had been one of the two rules they'd agreed on after their first session; breaking either of those rules would signal the end and they'd go their separate ways.

Rule number one was no drinking. Rule number two was no sex; not with each other and not with anyone else.

The restaurant was comfortably full without being crowded and the wait for a relatively private booth in one corner wasn't too long. He pretended not to care when Loki ordered an iced tea with his burger; he asked for plain water with his order.

"Have you read the book?" Loki was looking down at his phone rather than at Steve.

"Started it," Steve answered stiffly.

He flipped open his messenger bag and dug out his copy of the book about _Love Languages_ that Dr. Hand had suggested they read together. There were a dozen more books after they finished this one. He felt like he was back in college and had homework. As an afterthought, he pulled out his notebook and a pen as well, flipping it open on the table. The notebook was for writing down topics he wanted or needed to talk about, either with Dr. Hand or with Loki.

"What do you think?"

"I don't know yet." That was mostly the truth. He'd read enough to realize that he and Loki were mismatched, but not far enough to form an opinion about it. With a sigh, he rubbed at his forehead. "Are you sure you want to keep trying? Maybe it's just...not meant to be."

"That's bullshit," Loki said acidly. "Nothing's meant to be. Everything's a choice. And I choose you. Even when you're being a jackass."

Steve glared across the table. "Because you love me or because you hate losing?"

Loki's jaw went tight again. He reached across the table for the notebook and the pen, spinning it around so he could scrawl a single word over the next blank line. _Bucky _.__ Then he shoved the notebook back toward Steve and leaned back, folding his arms tightly. Snatching up the pen, Steve wrote _SHIELD_ beneath Bucky's name and left the notebook and pen in the center of the table, daring Loki to add more to their list. After a moment, Loki narrowed his eyes and reached out again. _Sex addict?_

At least he'd had the decency to add a question mark, Steve thought. He added _alcoholic?_ beneath that. As an afterthought, he jotted down another entry; _money_.

Loki's angry expression shifted to a look of confusion. "Money?"

"How are you even paying for school? Now that you're not, you know." He glanced around them for any potential listening ears. "It always stressed me out, not talking about it. How much did it cost you to put in that damn panic room? That couldn't have been cheap. And you acted like it wasn't important."

Loki licked his lips. "I never thought you wanted to talk about it."

"Of course I didn't want to talk about it. But you can't marry someone and not talk about money. Arguing about money is one of the main reasons people get divorced."

Slowly, Loki nodded. "Alright. We can talk about it. I would prefer...not right now."

"That's fine."

Loki picked up the pen again. _Afraid he'll be unfaithful if we fight_. He held out the pen to Steve.

A surge of irritation flooded hot into Steve's face and throat, but he gritted his teeth and wrote out his own follow up. _Afraid he might kill me_. He regretted it as soon as he finished and nearly scratched it out, but color was already draining from Loki's face, his eyes going wide.

Loki's voice was small. "You're afraid of me?"

"Shouldn't I be?" He slumped against the back of the booth. "Now I've seen how good you are at...what you do."

"What I did," Loki corrected hollowly. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath before reaching for the pen again. He held it over the page for a long time, his gaze unfocused. Finally, he wrote a single word. _Monster_

Steve took the pen and drew a thick line through the word, printing neatly beside it. _Hitman_

"Former," Loki said flatly.

"And you think I'm a slut." He wrote _slut_ on the line below Loki's entry.

"You won't tell me how many people you've slept with in the past month."

Steve scowled. "It wasn't a hundred and seventeen, I'll tell you that."

"Are you seriously." Loki cut off when the waiter approached with their orders and kept his mouth shut until they were alone again. "Fine. Don't tell me. Were you safe?"

"Yes," Steve ground out through clenched teeth. "The only partner I've ever been stupid enough not to be safe with was you. Because I thought you were going to be the last. I thought we were going to get married and grow old together and it wouldn't matter anymore. And then your dad tried to kill me."

"Why do you think I put a panic room in the basement? To protect you," Loki seethed.

"You told me it was a wine cellar," he hissed back.

Loki huffed out a breath. "Alright. Would you like me to rebuild your house? I can't go back in time and save what you lost, but if you want me to, I'll build you a house. I'll make it exactly the way you want it to be."

"Goddamn it, Lo-Adam. It's not about the house!" He grimaced, aware that he'd just shouted at Loki in a public place. He lowered his voice so only Loki could hear. "I need to feel safe with you, okay? And I don't. Right now, I don't feel safe. And it's not all because of you, it's SHIELD and HYDRA and everything else that's going on out there that I didn't even know existed until your dad burned down my house. I haven't felt safe since that day. I barely sleep. I have nightmares. I spend every waking moment of every day terrified that someone's going to kill me. And I don't know how to deal with that or how to get past it." Loki looked away, his expression turning sad. Steve sighed and tried to focus on his food, his appetite mostly gone. "I don't know what a normal life is anymore. I don't think I even know who I am anymore. But that's not your fault."

"Is there anything I can do?"

He sounded so torn and desperate that it broke Steve's heart all over again, even when he didn't think there were any intact pieces left to break. Shaking his head mutely, he tried to chew and swallow and pay attention to the restaurant around them. None of these people knew Loki was capable of killing any one of them before they could stand up.

"Five," he said between bites of a burger that tasted like ashes. "Including Bucky. And I hated myself the entire time. Every time. So I don't need you to make me feel worse about it."

"I don't need you to make me feel worse either," Loki said softly.

He set the burger down, no longer hungry at all. "All we're doing is torturing each other."

Loki looked away, his face still pale. "I have no idea how to be a functional human being. I'm trying. I'm reading these fucking books and doing all of the goddamn exercises because I want a life. A real life. A real relationship. And I want it with you. But I can't make you want that with me." His shoulders hunched as he reached for his plate, picking at the French fries.

One more week, Steve told himself. He'd give it one more week.

Taking up the pen, he drew a line beneath their list. "What about this. We both have our individual sessions earlier in the week. On Friday night, before our session together, we pick up dinner or go out and discuss at least one thing each of us wants to talk about. That way, we’re prepared and don't end up shouting at each other in her office again. If we choose now, that'll give us time to think about it."

"Alright," Loki agreed. "What would you like to talk about?"

Steve circled the word _money_. "Might as well start with that one. You?"

Chewing thoughtfully, Loki considered the list for a moment before he reached for the pen. He wrote _PTSD_ beneath the new line.

"I don't have..." Steve trailed off, sighing. He didn't get to veto what Loki wanted to talk about. Seemingly appeased, Loki set the pen down and finally began to do more than pick at his meal. "Where do you want to meet? Maybe neutral ground is better. Is there anything halfway between here and the beach house? I could meet you. That way it's not always you driving so far."

Loki shrugged. "I'm driving in anyway. I can stay with Thor while I'm here."

"How...how are you and Thor?" He tried to ask delicately, unsure if it was even his place to be asking personal questions.

"Fine." Loki paused, frowning slightly. "I think this is the best we've gotten along in years. He's changed a lot since we had our falling out. All of those things we've fought over for so long don't seem as important now." He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, his gaze distant. "He saved my life that night. The night of the fire. The scar on my side; you saw it, before Europe. Thor was the one who stitched me up. I was lucky. Lucky he found me; that he thought to look for me at all."

It took every ounce of willpower Steve had to stop himself from reaching out to touch Loki, wanting to offer comfort but afraid Loki wouldn't welcome physical contact. Instead, he balled his hands into fists in his lap.

A brief smile flitted over Loki's lips. "I don't mind the drive. And Jane doesn't seem to mind having Bruno around on the weekends."

"I'm glad that you're spending time with them."

Loki hummed quietly. "Thor's annual holiday party is coming up in a few weeks. He always goes overboard. Have you ever been to one of his parties? I'm sure...I'm sure he'll invite you this year." His gaze shifted only briefly to Steve before he looked away quickly, focusing on his food.

"I hadn't thought much about the holidays."

The realization that it was nearly Christmas already was a shock. A year ago, he and Loki had been living together and it was nearly a year to the day that they'd spent a week at the beach house. He wasn't certain he'd say that time had flown by, but it certainly hadn't crawled. The memory of the brightly colored ornaments and lights outside of the Topaz suddenly filled his mind and his pulse jumped a beat or two faster when he thought about that night. He hid behind his food, studiously not looking at Loki.

"Don't say no just because of me," Loki said quietly.

"I won't, it's not-"

"I won't go if you'd rather I not."

"He's your brother, you should be there."

"It's not a big deal."

"It's not a big deal for me either." He wanted to laugh at the careful politeness between them, born out of uncertainty and probably a bit of exhaustion from shouting at each other earlier. This was better than the yelling, but it was just as awkward. "Maybe. If things go well between now and then, I mean. Maybe it could be, like, a date. Or just a practice date. Holiday parties are always awkward anyway, so there wouldn't be a lot of pressure for it to be anything else. We could try. If you want. See how it goes."

Loki agreed, cautiously, and they finished their meal in relatively peaceful silence. By the time Loki dropped Steve off at his apartment, what sounded like heaven was a hot shower and a nap.

He stared into his refrigerator, looking without being hungry and trying to remember the last time he'd actually cooked or eaten anything homemade. There had been more than just culinary value in his mom's old recipes; he'd found as much comfort in using them as eating the resulting meal. They'd been his way of reconnecting with her and his childhood. Now they were gone.

"I wish I knew what to do, mom," he told the empty apartment, shutting the fridge door.

A new thought occurred to him and he went for his laptop. It didn't take long to find several places in town that offered cooking classes in a variety of cuisines. He found one that held classes on Friday nights and catered to couples. Texting the information to Loki, he added a couple question marks at the end. They could have coffee and dessert afterward, while they talked. It was less than five minutes before Loki texted back that he thought it was a good idea. Dr. Hand had encouraged them to find activities to do together and this seemed like a good option. And if they found something they both enjoyed, they could get the recipe and begin creating their own collection, their own memories. He navigated through the website to sign them up for the next Friday night.

"Can't move forward if you're holding onto the past," he said aloud.

He really needed to stop talking to himself.

**

The next Friday evening, he and Loki managed a shrimp stew in a ginger and carrot broth and a double chocolate almond torte with sliced pears and a caramel drizzle. Theirs didn't look nearly as elegant as some of the other couples', but everything tasted good and Steve was still blushing up to his ears over the way the chef had praised the efficiency between him and Loki.

"You two probably finish each other's sentences." She handed them a flyer with the next week's class meal plan. "It's great to see two people who work so well together. Hope you'll be back."

"We will." Loki smiled as he took the flyer, folding it away into a jacket pocket as she left. He met Steve's gaze inquiringly. "Next Friday?"

"Sure." He grabbed his jacket. "You really are good with a knife."

Loki stiffened, his smile fading by a degree but not disappearing completely. He led the way from the teaching kitchen through the store, pausing and waiting whenever an item on the shelves or in the displays caught Steve's eye. Now that they didn't have a mound of shrimp to devein between them, Steve felt awkward again.

He'd meant the comment about Loki's knife work mostly as a compliment, but also as a joke - a poor one - and his instinct had been to soften the joke by reaching out to touch or caress Loki, but he was fairly certain that Loki didn't want or need physical affection the same way he did and that left him floundering. Of course, his attempt at a verbal affirmation had backfired because that wasn't how he innately communicated affection. He twisted his head, trying to stretch out his neck. Even his inner monologue was beginning to sound like Dr. Hand or one of her books.

They settled on a small café near Steve's apartment and found a semi-isolated table. To Steve's surprise, Loki had brought a large brown folder with him and once they were settled, seated side by side and close enough that Steve was uncomfortably hyperaware of the proximity, Loki walked Steve through a pile of financial and legal documents.

Steve managed not to choke on his coffee. In hindsight, he should've known that Loki's decision to go back to school for a graduate degree in finance had to stem from a genuine ability or interest. Working for a living wasn't something Loki would have to worry about for the rest of his life. As he stared down at numbers with more zeroes than he could even wrap his mind around, an unpleasant question crept out from the back of his mind.

Loki finally put away the papers and closed up the folder. "Did that help?"

Biting at his lower lip, Steve tried to think of a good way to phrase his next question. Finally, he looked down at his coffee mug. "Obviously, you weren't doing it for the money. Working for your dad."

Loki sighed. "You want to know why."

"Yeah, I mean. No one grows up wanting to be...that. At least, I don't think they do. Surely you had other things you wanted to be."

Loki rubbed at the back of his neck a few times, raking his fingers through his hair. Finally, he laid his forearms on the table, fingers interlaced loosely. "I wish I had an easy answer to give you. Even a simple one. It's difficult to understand Asgard if you've never been part of it. I grew up believing I had one purpose, to serve Asgard. Odin saw me as a tool. A weapon for him to wield, not a son, not even a human being. It was Odin's way or the high way, all the time, about everything. So I didn't think I could be anything else. Didn't think there were other options. Mother loved me but she was fiercely loyal to Odin and Asgard at the same time. After I found out I wasn't his son at all, after he told me how he found me, and that whole mess with Lorelei, I should've stayed away. I only came back because Mother was dying and then...it was easier to stay and do what he wanted. I didn't want to be alone. Asgard was better than nothing."

Steve nodded once it was clear that Loki had finished. "I'm sorry," he said, wishing he could think of something better to say. "That was a really difficult question and it wasn't easy for you talk about. I appreciate that you answered honestly."

Loki's eyebrows rose slightly; he looked surprised. Falteringly, he reached out and let his hand settle lightly on Steve's shoulder. For Steve, it was like being hit with a thousand volts of electricity. He leaned instinctively into the touch, almost sighing with the pleasure of being touched after so long. Loki patted his shoulder a couple of times, perplexed and awkward, and Steve realized Loki was trying to show affection in a way that didn't come naturally to him.

In that moment, he really hated Rule Number Two.

"This was good. If we decide to make a go at being together, I'd like to talk about money again. How to set up joint accounts, how I fit into this picture. That kind of thing." He motioned to the folder on the table, clearing his throat and shifting away before he did something stupid like try to kiss Loki. A hurt look flashed over Loki's face, but Steve caught his hand as he drew it away and tried to smile. "It was fine. You can touch me, it's okay. I'd...I'd like you to. If you want." Smiling came easier when Loki's hand settled against the back of his shoulder again. "You wanted to talk about PTSD."

Fingernails scratched gently over Steve's shoulder, barely enough to feel through the fabric of his t-shirt. Loki watched him intently. "I'm worried about you. And I don't think I'm the only one."

Steve swallowed. Loki had exceeded his expectations in broaching a difficult subject, now he had to do the same. "You're not the only one. Even Bucky," he winced, remembering too late that was a sore subject. "Losing the house, and you. It's been a lot to process and there are a lot of things I haven't handled very well, or at all. I'm going to keep working with Doctor Hand and I think it'll get better."

"What can I do?"

"Honestly? This helps. Talking, taking cooking classes, spending time together. All of this helps."

"I wish you'd find another line of work," Loki said dryly.

Chuckling, Steve leaned into Loki's touch. "I've thought about it. A lot actually. I miss having a normal life. I just don't know how to go back." He wanted to touch Loki so badly that he ached, but he forced himself to be satisfied with nothing more than the pressure of Loki's hand on his shoulder. He felt Loki's hand shift, moving to the back of his neck and his thumb fanned over the short hairs at the base of his skull. His breath caught in his throat and he shivered.

Loki pulled his hand away suddenly. "I'm sorry."

"No," Steve said quickly, face burning with embarrassment. "I'm sorry. It's...I'm sorry. I can't help it. I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong."

He looked away, ashamed that he couldn't even manage enough self-control to not fall apart with a little physical contact. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pulled a face. "We should probably add sex to the list of things to talk about. Doctor Hand says I use sex as validation and as a crutch in my relationships."

"I imagine that was an awkward conversation to have," Loki mused, placing his hand carefully on Steve's upper back. "What do you think?"

"I think...we should call it a night. This has been good though. Thank you."

Loki smiled briefly. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'll be there. I just..." He didn't want to tell Loki that he needed to go home and jerk off in the shower so he could think straight again.

"I'll take you home."

Every little brush of contact was torture; every sound and movement Loki made on the drive back to Steve's apartment. He wanted Loki to walk him to the door as much as he wanted him to stay away. His hand shook as he unlocked the door, teeth clenched to keep from inviting Loki in when he knew he shouldn't. To his credit, Loki stayed well outside the threshold, hands in his jacket pockets.

"I have finals coming up," Loki said suddenly. "Two weeks from now. After that, I'll have more time. If you need to get away, you're welcome to come out to the house. It's quiet there."

Steve couldn't think about the beach house without imagining Loki's body, pale skin gleaming in the moonlight, and the breathless sounds he'd make as their bodies moved together. On second thought, he was going to need a very cold shower, possibly more than one.

"I'll think about it. Thanks for the offer."

"Goodnight."

Steve nodded. "Night."

He breathed a sigh of relief when the door was closed and bolted and he could head for the shower, one hand already unbuttoning his decidedly uncomfortable jeans. Once he was standing under the spray of hot water, he realized that he'd spent months trying to force himself not to think about Loki whenever he masturbated, but there was no reason he couldn't or shouldn't fantasize about Loki now. They were in counseling, they were talking and spending time getting to know each other again.

It struck him suddenly that the strange feeling he'd had all evening was _ __hope_. __ Somewhere between juicing carrots and slicing up pears, he'd started to believe there might be a chance for them to be happy again. It wouldn't be like before; it could never be like before. But it could be something new and new didn't mean lesser or worse than before, only different. Loki had forgiven him, he realized, swallowing against a lump in his throat. He'd had every reason to walk away, but he hadn't. They still had a long ways to go, miles and miles of bad road they'd have to walk as they gathered up the pieces of their own lives and melded them into a life together, but, for the first time, Steve believed they could do it and he believed it was worth doing. He hurried through his shower and haphazardly toweled off as he padded into the bedroom, sinking down onto the bed. He went for his phone, buzzing from his realization that he still wanted to be with Loki. To hell with Rule Number Two, they didn't have to wait for what they both wanted. Phone in hand, his gaze landed on the small pile of books Dr. Hand had recommended and the notebook he'd been using to jot down notes. Slowly, he lowered the phone. 

It had been so easy to slip back into his old familiar pattern that he'd barely noticed he was doing it. So easy to fall back into using sex to fast forward through the parts of the relationship that were actual work. He hadn't minded waiting for Loki to be ready for sex, but once that door had opened, they'd stopped simply spending time together; they'd stopped talking and learning about each other, simply coasting along. He called Loki with subdued enthusiasm and fading arousal.

"Steve? Is something wrong?"

He laid down on his back, legs hanging over the edge of the bed. "No, nothing's wrong. Are you driving?"

"Just reached Thor's. Perfect timing."

Staring up at the ceiling, he wished he'd taken the time to sort out his thoughts first. But the sound of Loki's voice was still soothing. "I had a question. I probably should've saved it for tomorrow or next Friday. It's just, I wanted to ask."

"Alright."

"Why didn't you give up on me? You had every reason to after..." 

"You did what you did," Loki said carefully. "Because of what I said to you that night. Because I hurt you and made you feel as though you were wrong. I know you were...you were only trying to help, in your own way." There was a heavy sigh at the other end of the phone. "And my reaction, it was more about how much I didn't ever want you to see me like that, to look at me the way you did. I should've handled it differently. If I had, if I'd been...better...at this, you wouldn't have felt you needed to do any of it."

"It wasn't your fault," Steve said meekly. He waited a beat, trying to decide if that answered the churning inside him. "I miss you. I miss us."

"Then keep coming to counseling with me. Please." Loki sounded heartbreakingly earnest. "We can make this work, I know we can."

He hadn't realized that Loki was still worried he would decide to stop going with him, but then again, he'd never given Loki any reason to believe he wanted to be there. Smiling against the phone, he let go of a little bit more of the tension he'd been holding onto since Europe. "I'll see you there tomorrow. And thank you. For not giving up on me. Goodnight."

"Tomorrow," Loki promised.

He laid on the bed for several minutes after the call ended. Finally, he spurred himself up to get fully dried off and dressed enough to sleep. He grabbed the top book, his notebook, and a pen. Dr. Hand had asked them both to work through the exercises in the book, but he'd only picked through the first few half heartedly. Now, he dove into the book, frowning with concentration as he read and underlining passages that stood out for him. He completed the exercises as he went, repeating the ones he'd done earlier, this time with effort and thought.

By midnight, he was exhausted and his mind felt as though a hurricane had blown through, drowning him in every emotion a dozen times over. It was draining and exhilarating at the same time. He had as many questions and doubts as he had answers and hopes, but he put the book down feeling that he'd made progress.

**

Steve picked a pair of slate gray slacks with a pale blue Oxford shirt that set off his eyes, adding a black leather belt to match black leather shoes. Everything he was wearing was new, from his socks to the black wool coat. Not simply the new of needing to have clothes to wear after his house burned down, but the barely home from the store and tags clipped off kind of new. Shamelessly, he'd told the salesgirl that he had a date and needed help to make a good first impression.

A really good first impression.

There was a knock at the door as he slipped on a silver watch - also new - and dropped his wallet into an inner coat pocket. He pulled the door open, already smiling.

Loki's mouth fell open, his gaze scanning quickly from Steve's feet to his face several times before he managed to say anything. "Wow."

His smile widened. "Thanks. You look amazing."

He'd had help and he still hadn't managed to outclass Loki, who was in basic tan chinos that hugged his thighs and draped down from his knees in ways that made his legs look even longer. The dress shirt beneath the dark brown leather coat was forest green with a white vee neck t-shirt just visible underneath. Loki's hair was long enough to begin curling over his ears and the urge to dig his fingers into those curls was nearly irresistible. Steve didn't try to hide the way he took stock of Loki's appearance and he didn't feel guilty at all for imagining undoing all of the buttons and getting his hands on Loki's skin. The mental image made him smile until he thought he might look a little bit maniacal.

"You're going to be wasted on Thor's holiday party." Loki crooked an elbow as he pivoted; a sweet, gentlemanly gesture.

"I'll be with you so it'll be worth it." He slipped a hand around the inside of Loki's elbow.

Loki's chivalrous, and occasionally whimsical, streak was completely unexpected. Steve often wondered how much of Loki's personality had been repressed and denied either by Odin or because of what Loki had been doing for Odin. As the distance and time increased, it became more apparent that the person Loki truly was had barely existed while he'd been serving Asgard. This was a Loki who sent flowers for no reason, who offered his arm on a date, who was a total sucker for a pair of puppy dog eyes, and who laughed with pure, uninhibited joy over just being alive.

Steve loved this Loki more than he'd thought possible and he might never have known this Loki if they hadn't taken the tumbling, broken and burned route to what they had now.

"Did you get registered for next semester?" Steve asked as he climbed into the Jeep. There was a light dusting of snow and promises of more throughout the evening. It made a perfect backdrop for a holiday party.

"Three classes. It'll be a lot." Loki gave his hand a quick squeeze before focusing on driving.

Thinking of all the time Loki spent driving in to the city every weekend, Steve felt a twinge of guilt. He knew Loki brought schoolwork with him but it seemed unfair to keep asking Loki to give up that much time. He didn't say anything because he knew Loki would insist it was fine; his grades had been excellent the past semester so Steve couldn't claim the driving time was hurting him.

Bright lights blazed from the windows at Thor and Jane's townhouse and the holiday decorations twinkled along the lines of the roof and porch. There were already a good number of vehicles lined along the street.

He felt a thrill of nervousness climbing out of the Jeep, even though he would likely know a good number of the people at the party. It was their first public outing as a couple, not including therapy. And it was also likely to be the first time he, Loki, and Bucky were in the same location since Europe, if Bucky had decided to come. He hadn't known for sure if Bucky was planning on the party or not when they'd spoken last. Bucky had accepted the news that Steve and Loki were in counseling with stone-faced resignation.

"I should've brought something," Steve said suddenly.

Loki produced a festively decorated wine bag from the back seat and held it out. "Already taken care of. It's Jane's favorite."

He nearly kissed Loki as he took the gift. Instead, he held out a hand for Loki to take as they crossed the street and headed up the sidewalk. Maybe his first impulse would always be physical; love and sex were so deeply ingrained and tangled up in his mind that trying to find other, non-sexual ways to show Loki that he loved him felt like learning a foreign language.

The front door swung open nearly before he and Loki reached the front porch and Thor's booming laughter greeted them. He waved them both in, a Santa hat perched on top of his head at a perilous angle, and they were swallowed up into music and laughter, the smells of the holidays heavy on the air. Loki disappeared upstairs with their coats.

Jane came by with plastic cups of eggnog in both hands, holding them out. "They're virgin. It's the dish on the left and it's labeled."

"Thanks."

"Tons of food too, so eat! Please!" She was swept back out into the crowd.

Steve realized he was still holding the wine bag under his arm and shouted to be heard over the noise. "This is for you and Jane." He motioned to bag with his chin since his hands were full with the cups of eggnog.

"Excellent! Thank you." Thor took the wine off his hands.

Loki appeared suddenly at his side and took one of the cups. "Do you want to mingle?"

He was already overwhelmed, half wishing for a quiet evening at home or the relative peace of their cooking classes.

Nodding reluctantly, he stuck close to Loki as they began to weave through the crowd, moving from the kitchen to the dining area and then into the living and entertainment room. Several people were standing at the windows to watch the snow falling in the backyard outside. There were familiar faces, many from SHIELD and some from Asgard. He wondered if Thor was attempting to broker a sort of peace between the two organizations. It was still jarring every time Loki introduced himself as Adam, but no one questioned it or seemed suspicious.

A very familiar laugh caught his ear and he craned his neck searching for Bucky. He was surprised to see that Bucky didn't appear to have come alone; the broad-shouldered man with an infectious smile standing beside Bucky could only be Sam Wilson and they appeared to be getting along.

Loki saw where his gaze had gone and leaned in close. "Jealous?"

Shaking his head quickly, Steve jabbed Loki playfully in the ribs. "Relieved. Bucky's had a hard time making friends after...after his arm. He used to be the life of the party though. This is more like the old Bucky than I've seen in a long time." He wondered how much of that was his fault. And he still didn't think it was a good idea to let Bucky and Loki spend too much time in the same geographic location.

Too late, he saw Bucky look their way and he stopped laughing. Steve glanced at Loki, hoping his look said enough, and started in that direction. If he didn't go over, Bucky would think he was trying to avoid him and that would be far worse. This would be like ripping off the band-aid and hoping for the best.

"Hey, Steve!" Bucky's grin was as false as the cheerfulness in his voice. "Sam, this is my friend Steve. Steve, this is Sam."

"Pleased to meet you, Sam." He held out a hand.

"Same." Sam's grip was firm. His eyes darted toward Loki, clearly asking a question but not certain about Bucky's deliberate lack of introduction.

"This is my boyfriend, Adam," Steve said easily. He forced himself not to look at Bucky while Loki and Sam shook hands. "Heard you like to run. I could use a running partner if you're looking."

Sam laughed, a twinkle of humor in his eyes. "And I've heard all about the poor souls who've tried to keep up with you, but I'm game. Give me a time and a place, I'll be there."

"Not afraid of a challenge then. I like you already, Sam." Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Bucky's jaw set, but he didn't join the conversation or make any indication that he wanted to disrupt them.

Conversation flowed with Sam in the lead. He had a gift for changing the subject just before the silence became uncomfortable. Steve almost didn't notice that Bucky and Loki weren't participating; they were eying each other while simultaneously trying to appear as though they weren't. Eventually, Loki took Steve's cup and made a vague excuse about going for a refill. Moments after he disappeared back into the crowd, Bucky's cup was miraculously empty as well.

Sam glanced at Steve, then at Bucky's back as he retreated into the crowd. "Think they're going to do something stupid?"

"Absolutely," Steve said uneasily. He scanned the crowd in hopes of finding Thor.

"None of my business, but that's tension you could cut with a knife."

"Yeah. They're oil and water." There was no easy or simple way to explain and he didn't want to overwhelm a near total stranger with his train wreck, soap opera of a love life. He wished fervently that he'd opted for the spiked eggnog instead. "What about you? What's your story?"

Sam shrugged a shoulder. "Air Force. Did two tours. Spent some time with the VA when I got out. SHIELD came knocking a few months ago and here I am. You?"

"Wow. I feel like I should buy you a beer or something. SHIELD's lucky to have you." He stuck his hands in his pants pockets. Like Bucky, Sam was the real deal, while Steve was just a graphics artist playing around in a soldier's job. "Nothing so interesting here. It was either join up or go into witness protection. SHIELD's nice enough to keep me around."

One eyebrow raised, Sam gave Steve an appraising look. "That's gotta be one helluva story."

"You'd think." Steve smiled blandly.

Tipping his head to one side, Sam turned to face Steve directly. "You ever thought about stopping in at one of the support sessions? Might help with those trust issues you clearly don't have."

Steve let out a breath, shaking his head a little. "Sorry. It's just..."

"Not something you tell a complete stranger at a party, I get that." Sam leaned in, one corner of his mouth turned up in a teasing smile. "But you're a terrible liar, Rogers. Everyone knows you're Melinda May's protégé, which is saying something, and you're pretty damn impressive by all accounts, so I'm curious why you feel like you don't deserve to be part of the team."

There was a sincerity and openness about Sam that made Steve want to talk without guarding every single word. His trust issues were already a topic of discussion in his sessions with Dr. Hand. Since the fire, his world had shrunk down to a minimum of human contact, mostly Bucky and Loki, which Dr. Hand didn't think was healthy; she wanted him to reconnect with old friends and work at making new ones in order to build a social support network.

He glanced around, seeing familiar faces. "I fell into this by accident, just trying to do the right thing."

"Thinking about getting out?"

"No," Steve said quickly, then sighed. "Maybe."

"Nothing wrong with changing your mind. You gotta do what makes you happy."

Steve looked away, hoping to see Loki returning. "Wish I knew what that was."

"You're in good company then. Lots of folks don't know what they're looking for. Whole bunch of us get together Tuesday nights, if you're ever in the neighborhood."

"Thanks." He tried to focus on Sam, or anything that wasn't wondering where Loki had gone.

"Enough shop talk. What're you into? Football? Bet you're a Pats fan. What about baseball? You strike me as a baseball kinda guy."

"Wouldn't say no to seeing the Dodgers take the next Series."

"Mets, all the way."

"Right. Because the Royals didn't trounce them hard enough this year."

Sam's grin widened. "That's how it's gonna be?"

"Oh yeah."

It felt good to smile and relax. He realized that he'd missed having people in his life who didn't come with years worth of backstory and a house fire. Sam was impossibly easy to talk to and seemed to keep the conversation going effortlessly. Compared to the pressure of the counseling sessions with Dr. Hand and the tightrope walk of trying to navigate talking to Loki or Bucky, Steve found Sam to be a breath of fresh air.

He should've known it was too good to last.

A change in the buzz of conversation around them caught Steve's attention, but he didn't think much of the increasing numbers of people flocking to look out the windows into the backyard. He assumed they were watching the snow fall, which was rare enough to be considered a special event.

Jane wove her way through the crowd, Thor on her heels, and made a beeline for Steve. "Follow me," she told him, taking his arm and nearly dragging him to the door that led to the bottom floor of the townhouse.

He didn't resist, looking to Thor for an explanation. Thor only shook his head slightly, brow furrowed. The bottom floor was primarily a den and game room, with an entertainment center and a billiards table with a game in play. A small grouping of party guests had gathered at the French doors leading out to the patio beneath the first floor balcony. Jane forced her way through the crowd, hauling Steve with her, and hit a set a light switches that flooded the backyard with light. Steve's heart leapt into his throat and his stomach sank. Outside, in the snow, were Loki and Bucky. He watched Bucky slam into Loki like a linebacker, driving them both to the ground. Loki twisted away a moment before Bucky's metal fist landed where his face had been, throwing up snow and bits of the grass underneath. Steve reached for the door but Thor stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.

"They're going to-" 

Thor looked concerned but not worried. He shook his head. "Let them work it out. They're just blowing off steam."

His initial panic receded enough to let him breathe again and he realized that Thor was right. If Loki wanted Bucky dead, the fight would've been over in seconds, and he was fairly certain the reverse was true as well. They didn't want to kill each other, only beat the hell out of each other. With relief came a sharp anger toward both of them. They were at a holiday party, in full view of Thor and Jane's guests, and likely destroying the backyard rather than having a conversation or simply avoiding each other like grown adults. He had half a mind to haul them both in by their ears and put them in time out like misbehaving children.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered to Jane.

She sighed, giving him a long-suffering look. "They're going to need a change of clothes. Loki has clothes here. James can borrow something from Thor. Ice packs are in the freezer in the garage and there's a first aid kit in the bathroom down the hall, under the sink."

Thor turned away from the doors. "There's more food upstairs," he said loudly, his voice booming. The guests took the hint and filed upstairs, whispering and laughing.

Sam stayed by Steve's side. "You need back up for this?"

"Wouldn't say no. If you've got a good disapproving glare, I could use that too."

"Happy to help. I'll grab the first aid kit and the ice packs."

By the time Sam returned with his supplies, Jane had brought down two piles of clothes. Steve waited until Loki and Bucky seemed to run out of energy, pausing in their grappling long enough for him to open the doors and step out onto the patio. He stood at the edge, arms folded, and glared down at them, fuming, until they noticed he was there.

"Get your asses into the house. Right. Now."

They had the sense to look contrite as they stumbled in out of the snow, shaking clumps of it from their clothes and hair as they went. Loki had a split lip and the beginnings of a black eye, while Bucky sported a split and bruised left cheek. Their clothes were wet and stained from where they'd cut through the thin layer of snow to reach grass and dirt. Once inside, they stood, shivering awkwardly, on the thick rug meant to catch dirt and water. Sam was leaning against the pool table, arms folded and glaring daggers.

"Get cleaned up," Steve barked, jerking a thumb toward the extra clothes. "You are both staying down here for the rest of the night. If you're going to act like you're twelve years old then I'm going to treat you like you're twelve. You're grounded."

"Steve," Bucky began.

"I don't care and I don't want to hear your excuses. And there'd better not be any mud on this floor or any more damage. Do not make Jane clean up after you. It's bad enough what you did to the yard." He saw a dark blush spread over Bucky's face. Loki was looking out the window as though the idea that they might have done damage to the yard hadn't occurred to him before. Steve continued, keeping his voice stern. "If you're quiet and manage to get along, I'll bring you down some food in a half hour."

Both Bucky and Loki nodded, their gazes downcast.

He nodded to Sam on the way to the stairs, turning his back on Loki and Bucky. At the top, he shut the door with enough force to be sure they heard it before turning to Sam. "How'd I do?"

"A plus on the angry mom lecture," Sam said with a playful wink.

"I can't believe them," Steve said, exasperated. He saw Jane refilling a tray of hors-d'oeuvres in the kitchen and moved quickly to help her. "I'm so sorry, again."

"I'm just glad it wasn't Thor out there." She sounded like it wasn't such a far-fetched idea.

Steve took one of the trays off her hands. "Guess I know what we'll be talking about in therapy next time."

"How's that going, by the way?" Jane grabbed another bottle of champagne on the way out of the kitchen. "He seems happier. Adam, I mean. He's like a completely different person these days. We love having him and Bruno here on the weekends, so it's worked out really well. Except for, you know, tonight. At least Thor already winterized the flowerbeds."

"Where is Bruno?" It was the first time he'd realized that he hadn't seen any sign of a dog.

"Kennel for the night. We didn't want to stress him out with all the people."

Once the tray was set out, he kept himself busy by taking over the hosting duties from Jane so she could enjoy more of the party. Sam joined him in the kitchen to help mix drinks and pour champagne. He prodded Steve after a half hour had passed, reminding him of his promise to bring food down to Loki and Bucky. Leaving Sam in charge of the kitchen, he piled a plate with cheese, salami slices, crackers, and holiday cookies, then grabbed a beer for Bucky and a bottled water for Loki. Carefully, he slipped through the door to the bottom level and started down the stairs. About halfway down, he heard voices and the sound of video game gunfire.

"You got 'em?" Bucky asked.

"Two more on your right."

"We should-"

"On it."

Steve crept quietly down the rest of the stairs and stopped in the doorway, watching. Loki was in a t-shirt and sweatpants while Bucky was nearly drowning in one of Thor's old college shirts and a pair of athletic shorts. The washing machine whirred in the background, barely audible over the soundtrack of the game they were playing. Steve watched, a little amazed that they were playing cooperatively and how easily they'd seemed to fall into a rhythm. Perhaps Thor had been right and they'd needed to pound on each other for awhile before they could get over their differences. He was about to let them know he was there when Bucky spoke again, his attention still on the television screen in front of them.

"Who'd you think he'd choose, if he had to. Me or you."

Loki snorted. "If I tried to make him choose, he'd never speak to me again. You're part of the Steve Rogers package, for better or for worse. I don't have to like it, I just have to accept it."

Bucky shot a few more of the alien enemies crawling over the screen. "The way he looks at you. He never looked at me like that. You're it for him. Anyone can see that. He's never gonna be over you."

About a minute later, Loki spoke again, his voice much softer this time. "I really am sorry about your arm."

Bucky shrugged. "Life's a bitch. This one's a hell of an upgrade though. Oh, there's the nest!" He shifted, working furiously at the controls as their virtual selves emerged in a large cavern full of the dark creatures. They had it cleared out in less than a minute and high fived while the game saved.

Steve waited another minute before he rapped his knuckles against the doorway. Keeping his expression stern, he held up the plate when they turned around. "Hungry?"

The game paused and both of them scrambled to their feet. Their bruises were still an angry red but darkening quickly. Bucky had butterfly bandages on his cheek and Loki had one below his lower lip. Loki's knuckles on his right hand were also wrapped. Steve set the plate and drinks on the coffee table. He felt like a teacher facing two students who'd been caught fighting on the playground, but he knew if he stayed too long, he wouldn't be able to keep up the act. Half of him wanted to wring both of their necks and the other half wanted to hug them.

He fixed them with a hard look. "Jane will let you know how much damage you did to her flowerbeds tomorrow. I'm sure you'll offer to help."

"Of course," Bucky mumbled as he sat down again.

"Yes." Loki picked up their drinks, passing the beer over to Bucky and not meeting Steve's eyes. "Thank you."

He left them to continue playing their game, pretending to be angry but unable to keep from smiling by the time he shut the door behind him. Sam glanced up, shaker in hand, and raised his eyebrows.

"They're playing video games." Steve slid into place behind the counter beside Sam and scooped up another lime to cut into slices. "And they're actually getting along."

"Miracles do happen."

"I'll take it, whatever it is. They both look like hell but I'll take it."

He and Sam kept busy until nearly midnight when people started to head home and newcomers stopped arriving. Jane settled on a kitchen stool with a mug of herbal tea, happy and exhausted and repeatedly thanking them for helping. When Steve and Thor started wrapping up leftovers to put away in the fridge, Sam disappeared downstairs to collect Bucky. They emerged a few minutes later, Bucky dressed in his own, freshly laundered clothes. He stuck his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet nervously as he thanked Jane and Thor for inviting him.

"Whatever you need for...you know." He nodded toward the backyard. "Just let me know. Sorry." He finally looked up enough to meet Steve's eyes. "See you Monday?"

"Bright and early." Steve tucked another plastic bin of miniature quiches into the fridge.

It was past one in the morning and he was too tired to keep up the pretense of being angry, so he merely waved as Bucky and Sam left. He finished helping Jane load the dishwasher and offered to wipe down the counters so she and Thor could get to bed. Without the music and crowd of people, the townhouse was peaceful again. He shut off most of the lights before finishing up in the kitchen, trying to decide how he was going to broach the subject of the fight with Loki. There was a soft creak from one of the floorboards. He glanced up to see Loki lean against the counter, barefoot and still dressed in the shirt and sweatpants he'd changed into. He watched Steve warily, shifting from foot to foot.

"You owe Jane and Thor an apology." He started water heating in the kettle and got down two mugs from the cupboard.

"I do." He hugged his arms, staring down at the floor. "It's late and the roads are pretty icy. Why don't you stay? I'm sure they won't mind."

Steve picked out a couple of packets of peppermint tea. "Probably too late to call a cab. I guess I could crash on the couch downstairs. Didn't bring anything with me though."

"I have an extra toothbrush. If you don't mind sharing."

"Were you planning on asking me to stay before you decided fighting with Bucky was a good idea?"

Loki shook his head, then sighed. "Yes and no. I'd thought about it before, but I was hoping you might stay because the night went well, not...like this."

"I want to talk about what happened." He poured out the water and slid one of the mugs over to Loki. Having heard Loki's conversation with Bucky, he was much less worried about them, but they still needed to talk about it.

Loki took the mug, holding it tight to his chest. "Can we go upstairs? It's more private."

"Sure."

They retreated to the guest bedroom where Loki stayed and Steve shut the door behind them. He didn't think the conversation would go poorly - they hadn't gotten into another shouting match since their first joint session with Dr. Hand - but he couldn't rule out the possibility entirely. He half wished Bruno was there to serve as a calming distraction. Soft yellow light spilled out from the lamp on the bedside table. Loki's duffle bag was on the bed and he hurried to gather up the clothes strewn over the comforter.

"I'm sure Thor won't mind if you borrow something to sleep in. If you want." Loki dug through his bag, producing a toothbrush and holding it out. "And you don't have to sleep on the couch."

Steve raised his eyebrows, watching Loki over his mug of tea. He hadn't realized Loki had been hoping for their evening to go _that_ well. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about it; he thought about having sex with Loki frequently. He'd been sick of sleeping alone months ago. He watched Loki sit down on the edge of the bed, hands folded against his thighs and looking as though he expected Steve to lecture him. Carefully, he set his mug beside Loki's on the dresser and moved to stand in front of Loki. He caught Loki's chin with his index finger and lifted his face.

"Gonna be quite the black eye in the morning." He brushed his fingers lightly over Loki's bottom lip. "Maybe I should've locked you two in a room months ago and let you beat each other up. If that's what it was gonna take."

"I'm sorry, Steve. I know you wanted tonight to be..." he trailed off, looking away.

"It wasn't what I was hoping for." He wrapped his arms around Loki's shoulders, rubbing his hand over Loki's back a few times. "But I'm too tired to be mad about it."

"It won't happen again."

Steve hummed. "Shouldn't make promises like that, babe. I'll hold you to it."

He was tired and holding Loki felt like coming home to curl up in his favorite, old blanket. The idea of sleeping on the couch downstairs grew less appealing with each passing second.

"It wasn't dangerous. Neither of us got hurt. Not really."

"I know." He had to shift his balance, moving his feet between Loki's and letting his hands fall lower on Loki's back. It was the closest physical contact they'd had since before Europe. "I just wish I could understand why it had to happen at all. And why you had to do it tonight. You're lucky everyone at the party thought it was a joke or a game. And you're lucky neither of you were seriously hurt. I'm not putting this all on you. Bucky's equally at fault here, I know that. Hell, he probably started it."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to." He leaned in until his forehead bumped against Loki's. "I'd be worried more about Thor, if I were you. You're lucky you have a very patient brother who loves you."

"I'm not worried that Thor will leave me because I was stupid and let my temper get the better of me."

He pulled back, pressing a hand to the side of Loki's neck. "We'll add how to solve problems without resorting to violence to our list, how about that?" Loki collapsed forward, his head falling against Steve's chest and his arms going around Steve's waist. Steve rubbed slow circles over his back. "Why don't you tell me where the extra blankets are? I'll let you get to sleep."

"Please stay," Loki said, his voice muffled.

"I am staying."

"With me."

"I don't think that's such a good idea." Even as tired as he was, he wasn't sure how long his self control would last with Loki lying right next to him.

"Please."

Steve ruffled Loki's hair, bending down to brush his lips over the dark curls. "Come on. I'll help you get into bed."

He bit back a laugh as he tugged the shirt up over Loki's head and tossed it onto the end of the bed. Loki leaned back on his elbows, the barest hint of a smirk on his lips. He made no move to remove his sweatpants, only watched Steve expectantly. In the soft light from the lamp, the scar on his side was a dark line over pale skin. Steve's fingers itched to trace the lines of Loki's ribs and trail down his abs to where his hipbones jutted out above the waistband.

"If this is your idea of flirting, you're pretty rusty," he mused. He tried to keep his touch light against the fabric, just enough pressure to slide it over Loki's skin.

Too late to look away, he realized Loki wasn't wearing anything underneath and that Loki was aroused, his cock bouncing against his stomach as Steve stripped away the sweatpants. He had to crouch to work them down Loki's legs. When he straightened up, Loki had settled onto his back, one arm crooked behind his head. Steve's head spun a little, blood rushing to his groin and making his slacks go tight over his crotch. Loki licked his lips but didn't say anything; his eyes were dark in the dim light. His hands were on Loki's thighs, but moving them to brace himself against the bed only brought him closer to temptation. Inches away, Loki's cock pulsed. Steve's mouth watered, his imagination quickly veering toward X-rated. Shakily, he lowered his head to Loki's hip. He could smell the musk of Loki's skin and the coarse, thick hairs tickled his chin. An inch was all he needed; all he had to do was turn his head. He gripped the comforter until his fingers hurt.

"Please tell me to stop," he whispered, his voice coming out throaty. Fingers carded through his hair, helping him pull away and stand up straight again. He felt like he'd come back from a run, heart pounding and short of breath.

"Steve. It's alright." Loki kept his hands on Steve's hips, not letting him pull away. "We can do this. If you want to."

Mutely, Steve shook his head. He didn't dare. He didn't know if he wanted it for the right reasons or if he was ready _enough_ and it was impossible to think straight at two in the morning with a naked Loki in front of him.

"One thing I always loved about you." Loki reached up slowly and began to unbutton Steve's dress shirt. "Is how much you loved sex. How open you were about it, about how much you wanted it. And about what you wanted. It was one of my favorite parts of who you are. That filthy mouth of yours, talking about what you wanted me to do to you. What you wanted to do to me, how much you wanted me."

Steve swallowed. He couldn't get his hands to stop Loki from undressing him.

"I took that from you. I made you doubt yourself, made you feel like there was something wrong with you. That there was something wrong with wanting sex and enjoying sex the way you do. I never meant to. I wish I could take it all back." Loki's breath was warm against his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut as Loki tugged the dress shirt over his shoulders and down his arms. His belt went tight around his waist, then loosened. Leather whispered softly against the fabric of his slacks.

"We can't." He forced the words out through gritted teeth and felt nothing but agonizing disappointment when Loki stopped.

Loki stood up, holding Steve loosely at the waist. "Trust me."

"Loki."

"I'll be right back. I want you naked and in bed." He nuzzled against Steve's throat before he pulled away. He scooped up the sweatpants, tugging them back on as he headed for the door.

Steve bent forward to brace himself against the bed once the door closed and he was alone. He was shaking badly enough that he could barely fumble the button and zipper of his slacks. Anxiety overrode his libido once he was naked. He nearly grabbed his clothes and bolted from the room, thinking wildly of how long it would take him to walk back to his apartment through the snow. Shivering, he slipped beneath the covers, holding the comforter at his waist with an iron grip. The door opened and Loki slipped inside. He set two flute glasses and an opened bottle of champagne on the bedside table, then reached down to dig through his bag.

"There's no reason for us both to fall off the wagon," Steve said faintly.

"We made those rules to keep us from using booze and sex as distractions." Loki stretched out on the bed on his side, one arm between Steve's legs so his hand could make light strokes against the inside of his left thigh. "They were never meant to be forever, only until we learned how to communicate. But we never talked about how or when to know we didn't need them any more." There was a flash of silver in Loki's hand. He held it out.

Gingerly, Steve took the object. It was a silver disk with a star engraved in the center of one side; a keychain. A single key hung from the short link of chain. He frowned. "What is this?"

"It's yours, if you want. It's a key to the beach house." Loki smiled. "It's not the house you worked so hard for, but I'm putting it on the table anyway."

Steve's stomach did a flip. "And do _you_ come with the beach house."

"Me and a crazy dog and a normal life. If you'd rather live in the city, we can do that. We don't have to live at the beach house."

He tried to keep his breathing steady. "What about SHIELD?"

"They must know I'm alive by now and they've done nothing." He curled his fingers over Steve's knee. "Don't sacrifice us trying to protect me."

"What if." He cleared his throat. "What if I say no."

Loki looked away and took a deep breath. "I'm hoping you won't. If no means that you're not ready, that's fine. We can keep going to counseling and working at it and I'll wait. But if no means you've decided this isn't what you want, that I'm not what you want, then please tell me now and this...this can be goodbye."

The thought of goodbye made his heart ache, but, for some reason he didn't understand, he couldn't bring himself to simply say yes. "Does a normal life mean I have to leave SHIELD?"

"If you tell me SHIELD is what you want to do with your life, that you're happy there, then I'll accept it. I can be the normal part of life, for you. Like you were for me. If it's not what you really want to do, then I'll help you find something else. Whatever makes you happy."

"I...I don't know." Steve rubbed at his forehead, trying to get his sluggish brain to work. "Do you want a pre-nup? Or something. Since I don't really have, well, anything."

Loki stared at him, incredulous. "A pre-nup?"

"It's a valid question," he said defensively.

"No, no. Steve." Loki pushed up and settled into a cross-legged position. "Say the word and I'll marry you tomorrow and you are free to financially ruin me if we get divorced. I'm sure it'll be over something I've done and I'll deserve it."

He managed a smile. "Sorry. Apparently I have trust issues."

"And I'm the reason you have them." Loki sighed heavily. "I'm sorry for doing this in the middle of the night. This hasn't exactly gone the way I'd planned."

Closing his fingers around the keychain, he tried to pin down what was making him anxious about the idea of living with Loki again. "What did you have planned?"

"I was going to ask you to move in with me. And to marry me. If you said yes, I thought we could celebrate. Pour some champagne, make love. We could sleep late in the morning and have breakfast together."

"You do realize we're in your brother's house, right? It's a little weird."

Loki grinned wickedly. "Are you implying that we can't be quiet?"

"Oh, I know _you_ can't." He leaned back against the headboard, tracing his thumb over the star on the keychain.

"You don't have to give me an answer right now," Loki assured him.

"Thank you. It's not that I," he stopped, trying to sort out his thoughts. "My life seems to have two modes. Everything's stable or everything's changing. Buy a house, meet you. Then lose the house and lose you. Finding you, almost losing Bucky. Get Bucky back, lose you. Everything always seems to happen faster than I can handle."

Loki grimaced. "And I just did it again. Putting all of this on you so suddenly."

"Can we, maybe, just get rid of one rule at a time?" He nodded toward the champagne. "This was supposed to be a first date, remember? Sort of. More of a practice date. I need to keep taking this one thing at a time. One day at a time."

Loki's shoulders fell slightly and his smile didn't reach his eyes, but he got up to pour the champagne into the glasses. He held one out to Steve before raising his own. "To a dubious practice date."

He took a sip, watching Loki as he sat down again. "Something I just said hurt you."

Loki shrugged a shoulder. "It's nothing."

"I need you to talk to me, Loki. I need to know you'll talk to me."

"It's not you." Loki chuckled darkly. "I wanted tonight to be perfect, that's all. And I keep screwing it up."

"That's not true."

Loki raked his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry, Steve. I'm trying. And I'm trying to be patient. I just...I feel like maybe I'm waiting for nothing and I won't know until it's too late. I feel like I keep putting myself out there and I know that I love you, that I want to be with you, but you're still not sure if you want to be with me. I'm not trying to push you, but it's hard to keep waiting and not knowing which way you'll go. And I hate that I'm even complaining about it right now because it's selfish and I don't deserve to complain after everything I've done."

"Loki-"

"You were so patient with me. When we first started dating. You waited and you were patient and you never complained. I wish I could be that way. Be more like you. I'm trying. But it seems like the harder I try, the more I fuck up."

"Hey, hey," Steve interrupted. "Easy."

Loki set his champagne back on the bedside table and got up again. He crossed to the dresser, retrieving a familiar notebook, one of their relationship books, and a pen from the top drawer. Back on the bed, he flipped the notebook open to their growing list of subjects to discuss after their Friday cooking class. There were only two items remaining on the list that weren't lined out: Bucky and SHIELD. It was oddly touching to watch Loki frown with concentration as he reviewed the list, as though their relationship was a class he could practice and study for until he mastered it. As he tapped the pen against the page, he let his left hand settle on Steve's leg, stroking lines with his thumb. He did it without thinking these days, the casual touches meant to reassure Steve of his affection.

Steve took his time drinking his glass of champagne, watching Loki absorbed in thought as he flipped through the book and jotted down notes as he went, occasionally folding down the corner of a page. There were underlined passages and highlighted passages and some pages where Loki had nearly filled the margins with his neat hand-writing. Idly, he wondered if Loki ever had nightmares. He didn't remember him having them, before, but he couldn't remember many nights that Loki had gone to bed sober either.

He'd spent one session with Dr. Hand talking about his father, about all of the baggage he carried around because of who Joseph Rogers had been and that paled in comparison to what it would take to unpack all of the issues around Loki's relationship with Odin. He realized that much of Loki's sessions with Dr. Hand probably had very little to do with Steve. The demons Loki had to live with were far more terrifying than any specter in Steve's past; he'd done it anyway, just as he'd gone to Europe to help bring Bucky back, and Steve wondered if Loki would walk through Hell itself, for _him_. Guilt tasted sour and chalky at the back of his throat; the champagne did very little to wash it away.

Neither of them could know the future. They couldn't know if it would work out between them, or if the world would tear them apart again. He was so afraid of losing Loki again that he was holding back, thinking idiotically that if he never took the last step toward a relationship, if it never started, then it could never end. It was foolish, now that he recognized it for what it was. He couldn't control the future, he could only choose Loki and then keep choosing him every day, every minute, after that.

"Loki," he said softly. After the second time he spoke, Loki looked up, blinking. "It's late."

"Oh. Right." Loki gathered up the book and his notes, returning them to the dresser. He drained his glass of champagne before taking Steve's and picking up the bottle, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll take the couch."

"Come to bed." He tugged the covers down beside him. "Take off the sweats and bring the champagne back." For a moment, he thought Loki was going to say no, but he came back to the bed and handed over the glasses and bottle before stripping off the sweatpants and slipping under the covers.

Loki refilled the glasses before setting the bottle on the floor beside the bed. "Are you sure?"

Steve tugged at the pillows until he could lay back and still drink without spilling. He wrapped an arm around Loki to pull him close. Gently, he pressed a kiss against Loki's temple, breathing in the smell of his skin and shampoo. "I've done a really shitty job at communicating how I feel."

"What do you mean?"

"I love you. I love you so much it makes me dizzy. And I want to be with you. More than anything." He kissed Loki's hair and felt his resolve slipping away, but couldn't bring himself to care. "I got lost somewhere between who I was and who I'm becoming and I think I'm still lost, but you are the one thing that I'm certain of. I know that I love you. What I don't know is how to be with you. How to be myself when I'm with you. I'm still figuring that out."

"How can I help?"

"I want to talk about our future. We can add that to the list. I want to start talking about our future and what it could be, the life we could have together. I'm still terrified of having everything fall apart again, but I'll probably be afraid for a long time. That's life."

Loki pressed tighter, turning so his forehead was against the side of Steve's neck; his arm circled around Steve's waist. "Do you enjoy working at SHIELD?"

"I hate it. It's violence and fear and I thought it would be worth it if I could help people, but all it's given me is more nightmares. I wish I didn't even know SHIELD existed. I need to do something useful. I need to feel like I'm contributing somehow, that I'm making the world a better place. There just has to be a way to do that that isn't SHIELD." He settled deeper into the pillows, sipping at champagne and gradually drifting into a comfortable buzz of fatigue and alcohol.

"Whatever you want to do, I'll support you." Loki's breath tickled his throat, his lips leaving soft, warm kisses as he exhaled.

"When I figure it out, you'll be the first to know. I'd like to keep going to therapy. I think that's really helping us."

Heat radiated out from every spot where Loki's lips touched his skin and each kiss was pouring gasoline on a fire that would burn him completely to ash. Hazily, he wondered if that's what he'd needed all along, to go up in flames like the rest of his life so that a new life, and a new him, could emerge. His breath was coming in short gasps now, cock swelling between his legs, and all Loki was doing was breathing and kissing his throat. The hunger for physical, sexual contact was voracious. At any moment, he knew he was going to blow past the point of no return and Rules be damned. He bit down on his lower lip, trying to force the desire into the background again.

"Don't." Loki brushed his thumb against Steve's lips. "It's okay to want this."

"I don't deserve it. After what I did." The champagne did nothing to clear his head but he drank it anyway, letting Loki take the empty glass and set it aside. He focused on his hands, on keeping his left hand safely on Loki's shoulder and his right hand flat against the blanket over his thigh.

"You know I don't care about any of that."

"Doesn't mean I'm going to stop hating myself for it. I never wanted to be that guy, you know. The kind of person who uses other people for sex."

"Then it's a good thing you'll never have to worry about that again." The covers slid away as Loki shifted onto his knees, straddling Steve's thighs and leaning in to kiss along his collarbone.

His breathing turned harsh, never quite managing to fill his lungs, and his pulse thundered in his ears as Loki moved down his chest inch by inch, kiss by kiss. Muscles tensed with each touch and in anticipation of where Loki was going. When Loki tugged at his hips, he shoved the pillows out of the way and eased down so he was lying fully on his back. Loki seemed determined to torment him; his hands roamed lightly over Steve's chest and arms, down his sides and over his thighs. He mouthed at Steve's stomach, then pushed back up to suck at the base of his neck. There was no rush, no sense of urgency, despite feeling like he might fly apart if Loki so much as breathed on his penis. When he thought Loki was finally going to stop teasing him, the mattress shifted and Loki slipped off the bed.

"Loki?" It came out as more of a groan than a question. "What are you doing?"

Loki laughed, humming as he returned with a small black bag. "Do you trust me?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"Relax."

He could hear Loki looking through the bag but couldn't see what he was doing. There was a familiar click of a plastic cap. He sucked in a breath. Shifting his hips to spread his legs a few inches wider, he wondered what Loki had in mind, unable to decide what he wanted more. Loki pulled a black object out of the bag, rounded and about four inches long.

"Are you," he started. Loki caught the back of his legs and lifted so his knees were bent, thighs against his sides. He shivered at the positively indecent look on Loki's face. "What is that?"

"You'll see." Loki smirked.

He squirmed, pressing his head back against the mattress and trying to relax. A cool touch against his asshole startled him. Loki reassured him with a quiet murmur, spreading lubricant with what felt like a finger.

"Take a few deep breaths," Loki said, caressing the back of Steve's thigh. "Nice and slow."

On the second inhale, he felt Loki begin to push the toy against his asshole and it slipped past the first ring of muscle, then the second, stretching him open. Loki's hands settled lightly on his knees and guided his legs back down, kneeling between his knees and stroking along the outside of his thighs. He kept taking slow breaths and, with each one, his body seemed to pull the toy in a little bit deeper. It felt different but pleasurable as it settled into place, putting light pressure on his perineum once it was seated. Loki brushed lightly over his hips with both thumbs. Instinctively, Steve lifted his hips, which tightened the muscles in his ass and thighs. A frisson of pleasure flashed out inside him and his eyes flew open wide.

"Oh," he breathed, realizing what the object must be. "Loki."

"Deep breaths," Loki reminded him. "Steady, steady."

He focused on breathing, contracting and relaxing his muscles with each inhale and exhale. Loki was still caressing him, reaching up to fan his fingers over Steve's nipples and dragging his thumbs down the line of his quad muscles. Pleasure began to build low in his abdomen, coming in slow waves at first, but gradually increasing. Loki was still deliberately avoiding his penis and he thought he might go insane before he reached orgasm. It caught him unexpectedly, like a white hot tidal wave sucking him under and dragging him out to drown. He whimpered, teeth clenched, as his legs convulsed. His cock was still hard against his stomach, dripping pre-cum.

"Easy," Loki soothed. "Keep breathing for me. Deep breaths. Just like that."

He was shaking, gulping for air. He tried to push away the haze, but he could feel the same steady waves beginning to build again. "Loki," he panted.

Loki braced his hands on either side of Steve's shoulders and leaned down to nuzzle against Steve's ear. "Think you can you do that again?"

He choked on a moan, muscles tightening down around the toy in his ass as pleasure lit him up from the inside out. He grabbed for Loki, clutching at his hair and shoulders as he frantically sought out his lips. Kissing felt like drowning. Loki pulled away after a long, breathless kiss.

"Hold on, before you get there, just ease back from the edge. Can you do that?"

Steve nodded, swallowing thickly. It was easier to agree than accomplish, however. He shivered with the effort of trying to control his muscle contractions, postponing the rush. Maybe Loki intended to tease him or see how many times he could push Steve to the edge before he turned into a trembling mess. Loki changed positions so his knees were pressed against Steve's sides and retrieved the bottle of lubricant. Gasping, Steve lost control when he realized what Loki intended to do. His eyes slammed shut, pleasure crashing through him again, sharper and more intense than the first time. When it faded, he was shivering violently and his cock pulsed, angry red and swollen.

"Impatient, are we?" Loki teased.

"Loki. Oh god, Loki."

"What was that?" Loki rolled his hips, one hand behind him to brush tantalizingly over the patch of thick pubic hair at the base of Steve's penis. "Did you want something?"

"Jesus...fuck. Loki." He clamped his hands down on Loki's thighs, unable to stop himself from trying to force Loki down onto his cock. "I need that ass. Fuck, Loki. Please. Wanna fuck you. I need to feel you, be inside you. God, I wanna come inside you."

Loki grinned. "That's better." He poured lube out onto his palm, reaching down to slick Steve from root to tip.

Breath hissed through Steve's teeth. He couldn't catch his breath and his muscles were beginning to quake with the effort of trying to hold steady. He couldn't watch Loki sink down, his mind shocked blank with the heat and clench of Loki's ass around his cock. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on Loki's face and fought desperately to hold on for another second, then another. His whole body was burning away, pleasure roiling and sparking down his legs and up through his chest. He bucked his hips upward and Loki leaned away, back arching like a bow and the muscles in his abdomen going tight.

He fumbled for a grip on Loki's cock even though he knew he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. "You feel so fucking good."

Loki twisted, reaching between Steve's legs. He thought Loki must be going to remove the toy, hoping to help Steve last longer, but instead, he heard a soft click and it began to _vibrate_.

"You bastard," Steve gasped before all he could say through clenched teeth was a steady mantra of _ohgodohgodohgod_.

He had to be leaving bruises on Loki's skin from the death grip his had on his hips, trying to push deeper and harder into Loki's ass. Their skin slapped together with slick, wet sounds. He managed a count of five before he slammed his head back against the mattress, barely grabbing one of the pillows and yanking it over his face in time to muffle his scream. He was floating and falling and burning up at the same time, his body jerking like a marionette. Only vaguely, he registered the sensations of Loki removing the toy from his ass and wiping his skin clean.

Finally, he pushed the pillow away and licked his lips. "I can't move my legs," he said hoarsely.

"Perfect," Loki murmured. There was a note of mischief in his voice.

"What are you-" 

Loki bent his legs again, this time settling his hips against Steve's ass. A whimper escaped through his lips when Loki's cock brushed over his asshole. Loki was wider than the toy - the additional stretch felt impossibly good - and he sunk deeper, filling Steve completely.

"How does it feel?" Loki whispered breathlessly. He made smooth, slow strokes, pushing deep with each one.

Steve had to force his tongue to move. "So fucking good. Loki." Shivers of pleasure were beginning to arc though his legs again and the way Loki was moving, slow and steady, seemed to add fuel to his desire rather than sate it. He pressed his legs to Loki's sides, wrapping his arms around Loki's shoulders. "What the hell was in that champagne, Viagra?"

"Just plain old champagne." Loki kissed him, biting at his lips. "I can feel you shaking."

He clutched at Loki's shoulders and back, as though he could pull him deeper. Loki shifted and let more of his weight settle on Steve's chest. He dragged a thumb over Steve's lower lip. Following an impulse he didn't understand, Steve bit at Loki's fingers, sucking eagerly at one, then two.

"You'd love to have a cock in your mouth right now, wouldn't you," Loki said huskily, his breath hot against Steve's cheek.

He could only whimper in response.

"You are so hot like this...writhing, desperate to be fucked," Loki murmured. "It's gorgeous. How much you want this. How much you _want_. So beautiful, so sexy. We are definitely going to have to." His voice dropped to a lower register at the same time his fingers nearly gagged Steve when he tried to swallow. "Add this to the list."

Saliva smeared over his lips when Loki pulled his fingers away. Steve sucked in a breath of air. His head was spinning and his body wouldn't cooperate, his limbs felt heavy and clumsy. Irrationally, he thought that he might pass out if Loki kept going. His face tingled and his breathing was too shallow; he wasn't getting enough oxygen but couldn't seem to catch his breath. Loki must've noticed; he pushed up and back onto his knees, his weight no longer pressing against Steve's chest. The change in angle dragged his cock over the exact spot the toy had been earlier and Steve jerked involuntarily, muscles tightening.

"Steve," Loki moaned.

"Come for me, baby, please," he managed to beg, voice hoarse and dry. Loki's rhythm sped up, his expression intensely focused. Steve reached down to grip the sheet and mattress. "That's it, that's it. Fuck me. Harder. Come on, fuck me. I wanna feel you come."

"I...love." Loki squeezed his eyes shut, mouth open. His thrusts became erratic. "I love you. Steve. Fuck. I love you." He collapsed down onto his elbows, head resting on Steve's collarbone, and panted heavily.

Steve could feel his heartbeat racing and eased them both onto their sides, letting Loki roll out of his arms to sprawl out on his back. His asshole pulsed at the loss, a familiar ache settling in. He closed his eyes because keeping them open any longer wasn't going to be an option. Turning his head, he clumsily kissed Loki's forehead, blindly nudging a lock of hair out of the way with his nose.

"I still can't move my legs," he mused, smiling against Loki's skin.

"Hmm."

"That was...really intense." Pulling Loki a bit tighter, he kissed him again. "Next time, I get to use that thing on you."

Loki laughed softly, snuggling closer. "You want there to be a next time then?"

"Definitely." He shrugged a little, smiling. "Since this didn't turn out to be a practice date, why don't we call this practice for our wedding night?"

"Do you mean?"

"My answer's yes. It's always been yes."


	19. Epilogue

FIVE MONTHES LATER

Steve whistled a disjointed tune as he propped open the front door to the studio. It was a beautiful spring day, the last of the winter's cold fading into a memory as the sun and flowers emerged. He saw Mr. Peterson opening up his antique shop across the street and waved a hello. 

Early mornings were his favorite time. Usually, he got a good run with Bruno before having breakfast and heading into town to open the studio. The summer crowds were still a few weeks away so it was sleepy and peaceful. He could get a lot of work done in the hours before Loki had a break from classes and studying. Some of it was freelance graphics design; a few projects had even paid well enough. It kept him busy and gave him variety when his own work was stalled or needed to percolate before he kept going.

Bruno padded after him, tail wagging with the perpetual cheerfulness of an extremely spoiled dog. He loped up the stairs to the loft where Steve had his personal workspace and curled up in the dog bed, amber eyes alert and watchful as Steve settled onto the stool in front of his latest canvas. 

"Think I'll sell anything this summer?" He posed the question to the dog. Bruno raised his head, ears shifting forward. "At least, anything that's mine. The rest is good, but my stuff? Not so sure about it. What do you think?"

Once the colors he wanted were mixed, he plugged his phone into the sound dock and flipped to his favorite jazz piano playlist. About an hour later, he was still working on the ocean section of his latest seascape when another of the local artists came in to drop off a stack of prints along with her latest completed painting. Delia primarily painted colorful pictures of cats wearing bowties. Steve thought they were adorable and the smaller prints sold well enough. He didn't charge the artists who used the downstairs area to display their work; he didn't need the money and he was happy to help raise the profile of the small town's art community.

He heard Delia greet someone on her way out, but didn't do more than glance over the railing into the downstairs space. It wasn't tourist season but every now and then, a stray tourist would wander in to investigate the gallery. If they were seriously looking, they always found the stairs and wandered up. Sure enough, a few minutes later, he heard footsteps on the stairs and Bruno's tail beat against the dog bed, his eyes on the top of the steps.

"Come on up, I'll just be a second." He added more cobalt blue to the brush to deep the shadow of the waves. Satisfied, he set the brush aside before turning to face his potential customer.

Bucky Barnes stood at the top of the stairs, hands in the pockets of his denim jacket. He openly checked out the loft area. "So this is what you're doing now."

"Bucky." Steve left the stool, wiping his hands on a cloth to be sure they were free of paint. He pulled Bucky into a fierce hug without giving him a chance to say no. "What are you doing here? Man, it's good to see you. Are you here long? Staying in town?"

With a lopsided smile, Bucky shook his head. "Just passing through and thought I'd look you up. You didn't exactly leave a forwarding address."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. It just seemed better to make a clean break. Can I get you anything? I've got coffee, if you want. And there's another chair." He hurried to the console table to start a fresh pot of coffee and pull out the chair that Loki usually used when he came to watch Steve paint. "There's sugar and creamer, just the powdered stuff though." He followed Bucky's gaze and realized he was staring at the gold wedding ring on his left hand. "Buck?"

Bucky shook himself. "Sugar. Sugar's good." He accepted the mug Steve held out, waiting patiently while the coffee brewed. Now that he was close enough, Bruno came to greet him and sniff at his shoes. Bucky watched the dog with a strange expression on his face. 

"His name's Bruno," Steve offered.

"I know." Bucky reached down gingerly to scratch behind Bruno's ears. "I recognize him from...from a picture."

Steve didn't think he would ever get used to complicated intersections of Loki's and Bucky's lives. He didn't ask or press for more information. As far as he was concerned, Bruno was his and Loki's dog now. 

"Buck, I'm sorry for kinda disappearing like that. With SHIELD and everything, it just seemed-"

"Easier?"

"Safer," Steve corrected, not unkindly.

"Thought you wanted me to be your best man, Rogers."

"You've always been my best man." He busied himself with pouring coffee barely finished and scalding hot. "And you always will be. It wasn't much of a wedding. No ceremony or anything like that, just went to the courthouse, Thor and Jane were the witnesses."

"And you're happy?"

Steve filled Bucky's mug and handed over a plastic spoon with the canister of sugar. "I've got my own gallery and I get to paint all day. No boss, no deadlines. No jumping out of planes or getting shot at. It's not very exciting but it's enough. And you are always welcome to visit. I mean it."

"Might take you up on that. Seems pretty peaceful here." 

"Thinking of getting out?" He settled back on the stool, mentally counting the minutes until Loki would arrive with his usual box of pastries and a few treats for Bruno.

Bucky shrugged and blew on his coffee. "Would you believe me if I told that I'm seeing someone and...and it's going really well."

"I'll be damned." Steve gave a low whistle. "Are you actually thinking about settling down?"

"It's still early," Bucky insisted. "But it might be something. Maybe."

"I'm glad. I'm happy for you. Really happy."

"I'm happy for you too." One corner of his mouth turned up for a second before he went back to blowing on his coffee. He came forward to look at the seascape Steve was working on. "It's beautiful."

"It will be. I hope."

"You always wanted your own studio. This must be a dream come true."

"Yeah. It is." 

He twisted his wedding ring around his finger, looking at the painting and thinking about the next steps. He saw Bruno's ears perk up a moment before he heard a familiar voice call his name from downstairs. Bucky stiffened but pretended not to. 

"Up here," Steve called. "Have company. An old friend stopped by."

Loki came up the steps, dark curls falling over his eyes. He brushed his hair back ineffectually. There was a box from the pastry shop down the street in his hands. Expression carefully neutral, he set the box down on the table and shrugged off his backpack. To Steve's surprise, Loki held out his hand when Bucky finally turned around and the two men shook hands.

"Barnes," Loki said.

"Adam." The way Bucky said it, as though he couldn't quite get his mouth around the whole word, made Steve wonder.

"Staying long?" Loki asked politely.

"Just passing through."

"Why don't you come to dinner? You'd be welcome. Steve can give you directions to the house." Loki crouched down beside Bruno, scratching the dog's head and patting his side.

"Thanks, but I really didn't plan on staying," Bucky sounded a little strangled.

Loki smiled and to his credit, it was only a little stiff. "I'll let you two catch up then. I was just on my way home."

"Actually." Bucky set his coffee mug down on the table to reach into his jacket and pull out a slender manila envelop. "This is for you. That's why I'm here. I was just going to leave it with Steve but since you stopped by."

Loki took the envelop cautiously. "May I ask what it is?"

"I found it when I was." Bucky cleared his throat. "When I was looking into your background. But I didn't realize what it was until later. It's...something you should know."

With a nod, Loki tucked the envelop into his backpack, slinging it over one shoulder. "Thank you for stopping by to check on Steve." He glanced to Steve, eyes searching. "I'll see you at home? Would you like me to take Bruno with me? I don't have plans for the afternoon and it would keep him out from under your feet."

"That'd be great. Let me grab his leash." He went for the hook on the wall, pulling down Bruno's leash and clipping it onto his collar before handing over the other end. He gave Loki a quick kiss on the cheek, letting his hand run down the back of his arm, squeezing lightly at the elbow.

"Call if you need anything." Loki tsk-ed for Bruno to follow and headed back down the stairs.

Piano notes filled the silence left behind. Bucky stared down into his coffee mug for a long time before taking a drink. When he raised his head, he looked tired. "I'm glad you got everything you wanted. No one deserves it more than you do."

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just." He sighed, finally taking a seat in the chair. "I miss having you around, you know? I miss my best friend. Don't get me wrong, I hated seeing what SHIELD was doing to you. That life wasn't what I wanted for you. Ever. I'm glad you got out. But it was nice being able to share more of my life with you, at least, for awhile. And we would've made one helluva team in the field. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I do." He picked absently at a bit of blue paint on his left thumb. "It was easier for me to leave. SHIELD's a part of you. Literally. It probably feels like you don't have any other options, right? Like you couldn't leave if you wanted to."

Bucky nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but the person you should be talking to is Loki." He rolled his eyes at the face Bucky pulled. "I'm serious. You two are far more alike than I'm comfortable admitting to anyone outside of this conversation. You've both got the same demons, you just handle them differently."

"I don't think I'm quite ready to be the third in some bizarro love triangle with you and him."

Steve laughed. "He's said almost exactly the same thing, talking about you."

"That's just wrong," Bucky groaned. "Sick and wrong. I did not need to know that."

"Offer's on the table." He hesitated a beat. "To talk to Loki. Not a threesome."

Bucky winked. "Always gettin' my hopes up and breakin' my heart, Rogers." He focused on his coffee, looking at the floor while he drank. When the mug was empty, he set it on the table and stood up. "I'll let you get back to work."

"Stop by any time. Come stay if you want. If you need to get away."

"Might take you up on that," Bucky relented. "I really am glad you're happy here."

"Thanks, Buck. That means a lot to me."

"Still pissed that I didn't get to be the best man at your wedding though. Don't think I'm going to let you live that down."

"I am so sorry. I should've called."

"Damn right." He smirked, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he started for the stairs. "I've got some vacation time coming. Maybe we could do a couples thing. If you'd be up for that. A cruise maybe. Lie on a beach in Mexico somewhere."

"We'd love to." He caught Bucky's arm at the top of the steps and gave him another hug, holding onto him tightly. In his new life, it was easier not to dwell on the danger that Bucky put himself in every day, for SHIELD, but that didn't mean he didn't worry. He held onto Bucky a little bit too long before stepping back.

"He'd better treat you right," Bucky said, his voice suspiciously rough. 

Steve followed him down the stairs and to the front door of the gallery, watching until Bucky climbed into his rental car and waving as he drove away. It was slow and he'd lost the urge to paint, so he closed up the gallery as quickly as he could. The day was turning out to be beautiful, with endless blue sky unmarred by any clouds. It would be the perfect day to wander the beach with Loki and hunt for seashells while Bruno played in the surf. His motorcycle was parked in the rear of the store.

The gate was open and the Jeep was in the garage when he pulled into the driveway of the beach house, breaking a little too hard. It was a new bike and he was still getting used to it. He closed the gate before coming into the house. Bruno greeted him at the front door.

"Loki?" He didn't see any sign of Loki in the kitchen or living room. He started down the hallway to the bedroom.

Loki was sitting cross-legged on the bed surrounded by papers, an open safe sitting at the end of the bed. He was staring down at something in his hands. When Steve came closer, he saw that it was an old photograph of a woman and a baby. 

Carefully, he shifted enough of the odd papers to sit beside Loki, letting his chin rest on Loki's shoulder for a moment. "Is that what Bucky gave you?"

Shaking his head, Loki reached out and picked up a newspaper clipping and a document on official letterhead, handing them over. "He gave me these."

The news article was about a car accident. A young couple had died on the scene; Lara and Frank Sharpe. There was mention of a bystander, a woman, who'd been at the scene of the accident and who'd tried to help them, staying with the couple until the ambulance arrived, along with a picture of the mangled car. Steve read the article twice, trying to figure out what he was supposed to be seeing. The document was a notice of a change of custody, transferring an infant boy into the custody of the State, signed by a caseworker from social services.

"I don't understand," he said finally. "What does this mean?"

"The signature." Loki picked up a dark moleskin notebook and opened the cover. There was writing on the inside in a beautiful, flowery script.

Steve read the message and his eyes blurred with tears. He wished more than ever that he'd had the chance to know Frigga. He tried to put together the pieces, looking back and forth from the signature on the form and the writing in the notebook. Obviously Bucky had been able to see the importance of the documents in front of him. The handwriting was distinctive and he realized the signature, even though it wasn't Frigga's name, was in her handwriting. He felt Loki shaking beside him.

"Odin told me...that he," Loki's voice broke. "That bastard. He lied. He lied about where I came from. He lied about all of it." He rubbed at his eyes with one hand. "The woman who tried to help them must've been Frigga. That's how she knew to find me. Maybe one of them lived long enough to tell her."

"Loki, I..."

"It's not a cover." He was smiling even as tears slipped down his cheeks. "Adam Sharpe isn't a cover. It's my real name and these were my real parents and they didn't...they didn't throw me away."

He pulled Loki against his chest and closed his eyes, holding him while he half laughed and half wept into Steve's shoulder. He prayed a silent, grateful thanks to Bucky for bringing them the best of all possible wedding gifts and to Frigga, for bringing him _everything_.

THE END


End file.
